Grind
by JonesnInDaHood
Summary: Beaches and boardwalks, endless summers and sugar cones. Adulthood crept up on Bella Swan sometime ago. Can a local skater make her feel young again?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We don't own twilight. If we did we'd probably be somewhere together, bored, sipping on fruity drinks and staring at oily, dark-skinned cabana boys. damnit, why don't we own twilight again?**

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**wRitteN for fRanny, **

**da best twee'eker**

**jonesn in da hood.**

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**gRinD**

**~*~ chapteR oNe ~*~**

** ~ BPOV ~**

There was a time in my life that I lived for the summer.

I lived for the endless, sunny days between each school year; sleeping in until near lunch time, tossing my hair in a sloppy ponytail, and gunning my convertible, cream-colored rabbit down to the beach.

The relentless beams of smoldering sunlight would tickle my skin as I lay on my beach blanket, the rays intermingling with the teasing beads of sweat that gathered on the small of my back.

Blank, white pages of my journal lay before me. It was an open book to a never-ending story, and I was the willing author, only looking up from my messy scrawl to stare into the dazzling blue water just past the sugary white shoreline.

Those were the days before college, before the responsibilities of adulthood. It was a time of adolescent romance, of falling in love with something or someone every day.

"Butterscotch," a crackling voice says, interrupting my reminiscing of the past. "Do you have butterscotch?"

I smile patiently and politely at the frail woman before me. She's petite with a golden bob of hair and pale blue eyes, hidden behind thick, black sunshades. She's wearing her pink Hawaiian shirt today. It's Thursday. She always wears the pink, floral-print monstrosity on Thursdays.

"No, Ms. Goldberg," I sigh, answering the same question she asks me at least once a week. "We don't have butterscotch. We have Almond, Amaretto, Banana …"

My voice drones on as she listens attentively. My eyes drift over her shoulder as I stare across the street to the beach that lays before me. Bikinis and boardwalks fill my eyes, and I want to be there. I want to be anywhere but here, in the damned inherited gelato shop with its cream-colored walls and pastel appliances. The smell of sugar and dairy is a far cry from salt and sand, and I curse adulthood. I curse responsibilities and growing older, and childhood romances.

Ms. Goldberg eventually decides on a scoop of mango and a scoop of melon, in a waffle cone, of course. It's the same thing every week.

She pays me and wanders out the door, the tinkling bell sounding her departure. I sigh and lean on the counter, tapping my acrylic nails on the powdery-pink formica surface of the counter.

"Bella, you wanna hook up with me and Ben tonight?"

The voice belongs to Angela, an eighteen-year old girl I hired straight out of high school. The girl is disillusioned, somehow believing a twenty-five year old girl with a Bachelor's degree in English has nothing better to do than hang out with her during our off-time at work.

"That's okay, Angie," I tell her with a smile, slightly caught off guard by her newly applied false eyelashes that innocently blink back at me. "I'm sure you and Ben don't need a third wheel."

"You'd never be a third wheel," Angie argues.

Ignoring my protests, she pulls herself up on the counter. Her long, gingerbread-colored legs swing back and forth, her pale, pastel makeup standing out boldly against her skin as she cracks her gum between her veneered teeth, then blows a small, pink bubble.

"Ya got anything better to do?" she asks with a shrug. "Ben knows this guy who's having a party. It's gonna be epic."

The sound of wheels roaming against wood pulls me from her words. I glance past her, watching as a group of skaters twist and turn up the boardwalk, laughing and chatting easily as they do their stomach-curling tricks. I've always been in awe of skaters, of their grace and grunge, of lithe bodies moving effortlessly in the air, of baggy pants and bold colors.

"No," I answer, heaving a bored sigh. "No, I don't have anything better to do."

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BPOV- Hoodie-Hood, aka Hoodfabulous

EPOV- Jonesy, aka Jonesn

Updates - every one - two days.

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Reviews make us weak in the knees.


	2. Chapter 2

******Disclaimer: We don't own twilight. If we did we'd probably be hand in hand, skipping down the Venice Beach boardwalk in search of the closest MMCS clinic. *sings* I got 5 on it ...**

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******It's all for Franny ...**

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**GrInD**

**~*~ chApter tWo ~*~**

** ~ EPOV ~**

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The sun is set low on the horizon, fading burnt orange into waving ripples of green and blue.

The sight is just as majestic as it's always been, seamless and showstopping, still performing the same illusion in it's daily disappearing act.

It's a good one, too.

Slow and soothing.

Never gets old.

I would know since I watch every single one of them - the sunsets. And always from the same spot, it seems.

Grabbing a Corona from the cooler, I pop off the top and chuck it into a nearby bucket, leaning back to watch the last of the fiery star sink, settling down for the night deep below the surface of the ocean.

Funny how when I was little I thought that the sea swallowed it whole, only to spit it back out again when the cool body of water got a little too hot. I imagined it boiled over, burning the beaches while I slept, leaving the sand looking dark and dewy come morning.

But you live and you learn.

You grow up, and you go to school - little by little becoming less aware of all the world's wonderment surrounding you.

I know now that the earth spins, revolves around the sun, and that it's the other side's turn to be lit up and warmed through. I remember learning it in sixth grade Science class. Mr. Banner had been pretty cool, demonstrating the workings of the solar system with jelly beans and jawbreakers. Though, to be honest, I still to this day prefer the long lost kid in me's take over toothaches and sugar crashes.

Just makes more sense.

With another gust of salty-sweet breeze, some unfamiliar voice draws, "Duuude," it's laid back owner jabbing me once in my shoulder. "You got a light?"

Nodding, I reluctantly tear my sight from the pink hue of the horizon, stretching out against the plastic backing of the chair, and situating myself to pull the black Bic from my front pocket.

This was what I always hated most about these parties, strangers coming up to you, bumming lights and all kinds of shit like beggars on the street.

Color me caring, I could never turn a blind eye, or say no to them either.

Once the lighter's secured between two fingers, I hand it over, forcing myself not to watch as he flicks the zipping metal, turning friction and fluid into a stout yet fleeting flame.

It had been exactly two weeks since I quit, just couldn't give it up completely.

Not until now, that is.

"Keep it," I tell him, getting a gracious bob of his head and a departing wave in return.

Adding an easy, learned smile, I mimic the notion, leaning back in my chair, now focused on the fizzing sparks floating up from a blazing beach bonfire.

Laughter carries with the heady scent of smoke rolling up and out of a permit issued trashbin, the clinking of glass bottles echoing from the tall grass below - which more often than not seconded for an accessible trash heap.

I'm not looking, when I see her - long, brown hair and all alone, legs curled to her chest to help fight the cold.

Willed to move, I keep a watchful eye, as I push up from my seat, grabbing two more Corona's from the cooler.

I weave through the crowd like a phantom host, blindly greeting guests while I make my way inside, grabbing the closest throw, before heading back out and down to the beach.

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**So, you know that story we wrote - In The Flesh? We're working on chapter 2 *gasp* And guess what ... Us (Hoodie Hoodfabulous, SunflowerFranny, myself along with our banner maker Dancewithmetonight, and our good friends Caligirlmon aka our other banner maker and Luvtwilight4eva and many, many more) *takes a breath* and of course it (ItF) were actually nominated for a few categories in the TwiFic Fandom Awards! What?! I know! Thank you if you nominated/voted for us! *blows a big two handed kiss***

BPOV- Hoodie-Hood, aka Hoodfabulous

EPOV- Jonesy, aka Jonesn

Updates - every one - two days.

That banner is beast, and was made by Dancewithmetonight.

Reviews make our hearts beat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: We don't own twilight. If we did we'd be stuffing wads of cash down male strippers' drawers right about NAO. Instead we're working twelve-hour shifts and prematurely aging. :'o(**

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**wRitteN for fRanny, ****the most gangsta ****white woman i know ****(other than muah). ****Pre-read by sheeka, ****the most annoying friend we have. ****lurve ya, gurl!**

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**GrinD**

**~*~ cHapteR tHrEe ~*~**

**~ BPOV ~**

I know as soon as we hit the party, I know this scene isn't for me.

The house is huge, warm, and inviting, yet closed-off from the outside world. Only the pool house is available to the guests, which makes me wonder what sort of person is hosting this party. Probably some rich kid who doesn't want to ruin his parents' fancy digs, from the looks of it. The dim glow from the inside of the house can't hide the fine works of art hanging high on the creamy walls, or the sparkling chandeliers casting a glimmering, pale light on a leather lounger.

If that's not enough to intimidate a girl, the address will. I'm standing in the driveway of a someone of importance, no doubt. Someone who has his or her own private strip of beach, peppered with the slick bodies of party dwellers following the hickory scent of the grill. They abandon the pristine, white, sugary beach for barbeque and beer.

The guests are young. Their ages range from late teens to early twenties. I feel out of sorts as I melt into the crowd, watching as the skaters dip and dive into an empty pool, their skateboards riding invisible waves in the air. I'm a poser in a crowd of much cooler kids than myself, so I wander to the beach. It's my faithful friend and constant companion; my sanctuary.

Spending my free time after work with Angie caused me to reminisce more about the past, of a time when I was eighteen and held the world in the palm of my hand.

Longing for the long-lost youth of my summers gone, I find myself easily swindled into the lavender bikini top and blue-jean skirt. My long hair was once weaved into a long braid earlier this evening, winding around my head in a woven halo of chocolate-brown. It's since loosened from its gingerly plated confines, and now falls down my back in waves as gentle as the ones crashing at my feet.

Grains of sand trickle lazily between my fingers as I bring my knees to my chest. The sun is brilliant before me; a starburst of smoldering fire dipping into the blue depths of the Pacific. A group of shaggy-haired surfers call out in the sherbert-orange light. Their voices bounce off the water and I smile. My ears tickle at the sound of giggling, squealing girls and the husky snickers of laughing boys.

I completely blame Angie for my wardrobe faux pas tonight, and myself for not considering the potential coolness of the ocean air. The heat of the sun eventually disappears. A chill whispers off the ocean, sending me shivering down to my bones. The surfers are now long gone. The sand sinks to my right, and my eyes are drawn to the movement.

Two tan feet littered with powdery sand stands before me. They're long, lean, and a sun-kissed brown. Faded, holey, low-slung jeans hugs his cut hips. The definition of his ab and chest muscles tense beneath the shirt he wears. The Fourstar logo stands out in black boldness against the white fabric of his tee.

Two beers dangle from between his fingers. A simple throw is slung over one shoulder, and his face …

This guy's a walking heartache.

A bright expanse of teeth flash at me from between smiling lips. The whiteness is dazzling against his tan skin even in the dim, evening night. His hair is the color of the burnt sun, what little of it I see peeking from beneath a black beanie, and windswept, as though he's been surfing along the tide all day long.

When he offers me a Corona I hesitantly take it. I swallow a mouthful of the cool liquid down, squelching the betraying warmth I feel fluttering in my belly.

_He's a skater, Bella. A fucking twenty-something skater. You're scraping the bottom of the barrel if you're attracted to this guy, no matter how pretty he is._

My body stiffens as he drapes the throw around my shoulders, warming my body, but completely invading my personal space. I raise an arched eyebrow at him, then wipe the trail of lingering beer from my bottom lip as he shoots me a grin and opens his mouth.

"The name's Bean."

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BPOV- Hoodie-Hood, aka Hoodfabulous

EPOV- Jonesy, aka Jonesn

Updates - every one - two days.

That banner is beast, and was made by Dancewithmetonight.

CaliGirlMon made us one, too. You can see it splashed all over my (Hoodie-Hood) FB page, 'cause I lurve it so.

Reviews make us give Bean a phat peen!


	4. Chapter 4

******Disclaimer: We don't own twilight. If we did we'd probably be floating in a boat on the bayou, sipping SoCo from plastic flutes we found on the clearance rack at Walmart, while I attempt to talk Hood out of jumping in for old time's sake. smh **

******Crazy backwoods biatch be crazy.**

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******All for you, FrannyFrancizzle, the whitest gran-gangsta-ma dis side'a Hoodie's hood ... *shrugs* idk**

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**GrInD**

**~*~ chapter FoUr ~*~**

** ~ EPOV ~**

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"Ben?" Brown eyes asks, her tapered bangs wind-whipped and side-swept, covering the crease of her completely understandable confusion.

Not that I didn't notice before, all the way up there on that balcony, but she's beautiful, especially in the light of the flickering fire; the flakes of florid flames melting the chocolate off of sweet hazelnut.

Bewitching.

Shaking my head, I point to the beanie hugging the top, as the wind rushes past. It's amplified by the shells of my ears, drowning out the faded beat of far-off music, but not my heart. I can still hear my heart just fine; the overwhelmed organ rapping it's own rhyme on my cage of caved ribs.

"Bean," I repeat, taking a seat beside her. "As in beanpole."

It's a common enough mistake that I'm more than used to correcting, but the look on her face ...

It's ambrosial.

Utterly adorable with a parted pout to her powder-pink lips, a crinkle shortening the slope of her cute, little nose.

Her feminine features say more than her words ever could, causing my chest to tighten, and my stomach to tickle, my lips turning up into an amused, wide smile.

The gritty sand grinds and gives underneath me, the skin of her thigh warming mine through my jeans, leaving me all that much cooler when she inches away.

I'm not gonna lie.

It hurts a little.

Hits me good and hard - dead center.

"Believe it or not I was a pretty skinny kid." I shrug, ignoring the troubling twinge of this subtle brush off. "Just sorta stuck." Which is the truth.

Growing up, I was thin as a rale; rusty as its weather-worn metal, too. Years of pumping iron did nothing, nada to deter those assholes I call friends - punks I consider family.

Peeking out of my periphery, I watch her take a swig, pulling my legs in close to mock her stance. Resting my elbows on my knees, I passively pick at the label on the bottle. The condensation collects on my fingers making them slick, a heavy hint of salt in the air making every other part of my body sticky.

The girl beside it leaves me hanging and feeling pretty stupid for trying.

Leaning in, I nudge her shoulder.

"How 'bout you?" I ask, finally minding my manners instead of rambling off random facts about myself and my strict exercise regimen.

"How 'bout me what?" she says, wrapping the blanket I brought her around shapely shoulders, strategically hiding from this here scoping skeeze that's creeped up to sit too close beside her.

When it came to women, I was usually more tactful, though my position _had_ been most convenient - a straight shot down her well-filled, purple bikini top.

What can I say? She makes for one, incredible view.

All of her.

Better than the clash of color that paints a pretty picture of the setting sun.

Every last olive-toned inch.

"You got a name?" I ask while she pulls from the tilted bottle, a bright sparkle flashing off the end of her curled fingers. Curious, I wipe the condensation from mine, my gaze dropping from her shiny, pursed lips to the slender hand holding the throw tightly against her arm.

She makes it too easy to give into temptation and touch her, her soft skin inviting, practically begging the pad of my forefinger to run along the side of her's.

A sly smirk plays on the corner of my mouth when I hear her breath hitch, blooming into a full blown smile when I realize the shimmer is from a small, yellow stone; the translucent jewel shining brightly from the center of a fiery sun.

Heat radiates off of the wavy, golden rays, the warmth of her covered shoulder seeping bone deep into mine.

Either she's forgotten what I've asked her or she's not going to tell me, so peeking up into those cautiously guarded embers, I take it upon myself.

"How 'bout I just call you Sunny?"

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BPOV- Hoodie-Hood, aka Hoodfabulous

EPOV- Jonesy, aka Jonesn

Updates - every one - two days.

Reviews make us happy. And you want us to be happy. *pointed stare*

;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: We don't own twilight. We don't even own this _plot_ ... franny does. It's all for her.**

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**griNd**

**~*~ chaptEr fiVe ~*~**

** ~ BPOV ~**

"Sunny?" I ask, smiling despite myself. "Is it because of my warm disposition?"

His hand is touching mine and I feel it deep in my bones. It's an unsettling feeling, not only because it's a foreign feeling … a strange man touching me in such an unfamiliar way. No, it's also because of the flutter deep within my warmed belly. Butterflies lift and take flight, eager to spread their long-awaited wings. They stretch toward the inky-black sky.

"Maybe," he teases with a smile, seeming somewhat more relaxed, even though I continue to snub his request for my name. "Or maybe it's because of your nails."

I glance down at the acrylic nails, cringing as I set my sight on the sunburst embedded in the hard surface. My hand looks small in his, in those warm, long fingers that lightly tread the surface of my skin.

"Angie's idea. She's a co-worker … we work together at Swan's Gelatos. Anyway, it was her idea," I shrug, pulling my hand from his, and immediately missing his warmth. "I'm not really into fake nails … fake hair … fake people … fake anything."

I take a swig of the Corona, not missing the way his eyes scan my face, then drift down to my chest. The throw parts open in my action of tossing back the brew, and for some reason I don't hide behind it anymore. I snicker around the lip of the bottle, watching him from the corner of my eye as he smiles and raises a questioning brow at my chuckle.

"So, Sunny who makes gelato and wears the fake nails that she secretly despises," he smirks, "tell me something else about you."

"Like what?" I ask, staring at the space where the sun has long departed.

"What brings you to this party? Do you … know the host? Or know _of _him?"

"No," I say, turning back to him, watching as the fire from a nearby tiki torch casts dancing shadows across his sharp, slightly scruffy jaw. "I came with Angie. I think her boyfriend, Ben, knows the host."

I shrug at the end of my sentence, not entirely sure _how_ Angie and Ben found out about this party.

"And you're not enjoying yourself?" Bean questions, his sea-foam eyes studying my face.

"It's not that I wasn't enjoying myself," I confess. "I just enjoy the sunset more. And the solitude. I find peace in solitude."

I don't mean for the words to be insulting. I'm merely stating the truth. But Bean looks slightly abashed by my words. He gives me a tense smile, then pushs himself from the sand. The tiny granules fall from his loose, faded jeans as he finishes his beer, then removes his beanie. The nearby torch shines against his sunburnt hair. It's just as unruly as I imagined; a haphazard mess of butterscotch melting into caramel, and I bet it smells just as sweet.

Am I fantasizing about smelling this guy's _hair_?

"I guess I'll leave you to it then," he murmurs, running his long fingers through his hair before returning the beanie to his head.

One step. One step is all it takes before I feel his departure, and I miss it. It's another unsettling feeling, but it's there all the same. There's a void now … a void of bitter emptiness between us as his lanky frame crosses the sand. Bare feet hit the wood steps as he climbs the deck. Then he glances back, notices me watching, and he smiles. My eyes no longer find him as he turns and melds into the crowd, and suddenly I've become a liar.

Solitude doesn't feel that great after all.

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BPOV - Hoodfabulous

EPOV - Jonesn

Reviews = gnarly. Did I spell that correctly?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. If we did we'd buy out DQ of all their pumpkin pie blizzards then videotape ourselves force feeding each other until we vomit. We'd call it two, fat girls and all the cups.**

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**All for FrannyFran, our mother from another mother? Is that a thing?**

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**GrInD**

**~*~ chapter sIx ~*~**

** ~ EPOV ~**

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I was thirteen when I built my first skateboard.

Thin and flat, I fashioned it out of a sawed-off piece of paneling I found in the neighbor's trash. The wheels I borrowed from a pair of my mom's old rollerskates.

It was a piece of shit that only moved about a foot at a time, the majority of that distance achieved with a single push off the black-top-torn sole of my high-top Converse. But it was mine; a big part of me that I embraced and created, taking an unrealistic dream of some wrong-side-of-the-tracks kid and making it a reality.

A world renowned skateboard manufacturing company.

My legacy.

Masen Made.

Just like me.

After I broke my arm the first time, I took a more sensible approach by mowing lawns and saving up to buy a real board - one that was molded and made for riding, jumping over the jagged rocks along the broken sidewalk.

It was the imperfections of my neighborhood that perfected my mad skills, and pretty soon I was dialed, had those tricks and turns down pat, running from the cops every Friday night over at the local bust.

Being too thin payed off back then. I was cunning and quick, carving around tipped trash cans and cutting through darkened, back alleyways - never once getting caught.

Yeah, that's right.

I was a punk, but what kid isn't at that age?

The point is I had a steady, supportive family, and a good head on my shoulders. Thanks to them and that, and some well-learned lessons from a few of my not-so-lucky buddies, I grew up right and went to school, got into a good college where I majored in business with a minor in physics.

I may have won a few awards here and there that helped me get to where I am in the industry today, but my passion's always lain with what's going on below my feet more than in front of my face or all around me.

To this day it still feels strange being recognized out on the street.

"So, she had no idea who you are?" Stretch, my oldest friend and business partner asks while helping me pull a molded veneer from the vacuum bag. Grabbing my trusty rockitruler, I shake my head, setting up to mark the center of the wood.

I love working on my boards and do whenever I get the chance - gives me a moment to breathe. Meticulous and time consuming, it takes my mind off the day to day, the things I don't want to sit and stew over, like the pretty girl with the fire in her eyes and a lock around her heart.

The one I left with her sought solitude and a dwindling bonfire.

Sunny.

She'd left my throw behind, folded up and hanging off my front gate, like a final kick to the gut.

"Well, why don't you just tell her?" Stretch says stupidly, shrugging when I glare up at him from my bent stance.

"I'm sure she'd change her 'tude if she knew you were loaded," he guesses, handing me a cutout to tape and trace. "That's what I do, and I get plenty of pussy."

Standing straight, I snatch the paper from his hand more annoyed than relaxed.

This was supposed to be relaxing.

It usually is.

"There's more to life than just pussy, Tyler," I tell him, using his real name so he knows I'm being serious.

I want in the chick's pants for sure, but I want more than that. Can't stop thinking about her; her eyes, how they sparkled, and not just from the flames of the fire.

It's more than that.

_She's_ more than that.

"Okay, well …" he pauses, snatching the paper back and handing it over to one of the pimple-faced interns. "You know where she works, so lead the way."

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BPOV - Hoodfabulous

EPOV - Jonesn

Reviews make us lose our shit like those fangirls that swoon all over our Beanie-boy Bean.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer- We don't own twilight, but we do own an inappropriate sense of humor and an IDGAF attitude. **

**It's all for franny - aka 'the Godmother.'**

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**~*~ GrInD ~*~**

**~ChApTeR sEvEn~**

**BPOV**

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I was nine when my parents split.

I don't remember much about my childhood before the divorce. My memory is filled with the sounds of broken glass and screaming matches, of accusations and slamming doors. I remember my older sister crying. Then I remember the road, how it was long and twisting, then flat and straight. The road traveled with the sun during the day, then chased the pale, white light of a bloated moon at night.

I remember leaving the greenery of Washington behind when I was around ten. My father, sister, and I abandoned Washington state once we realized Renee was never returning home. We left it and the gray waves of a cold beach, the dreary clouds in a rainy, overcast sky, only to be replaced with sunshine and blue waters, white sand and bold people.

California.

All the sunshine in the world can't replace the memories, though … memories of my father's scruffy face, or the sadness looming in his eyes as my mother fled our dreary, little house … the yellow paint peeling and chipped all along the surface, much like their relationship.

"What's on your mind?"

I'm drawn from my thoughts by the voice of my niece, Alice, who's sitting at the counter in our paternal grandparent's gelato shop. It's her turn to tap her acrylic nails along the surface of the counter. Boredom is etched on her face, with a hint of curiosity as she notices my drawn face, full of troubled thoughts.

"Just thinking about relationships, and how they never last."

"Well, aren't you Ms. Susie Sunshine today?" she snorts, her tongue darting out to toy with the ring near the corner of her bottom lip. "I've been dating Jasper for forever now, so don't tell me relationships don't work out."

I raise an eyebrow at her words, to which she simply grins. She's fifteen, technically not allowed to 'date' for another year, and has been in a 'relationship' with Jasper for a total of two months.

She also thinks she knows_ everything_, like most teenagers do, I suppose.

"What's got you thinking about relationships? Finally met someone?"

I don't respond immediately, choosing to instead clean the counter with a damp wash cloth. I hear Angie nearby, the popping of her gum rising above the hum of the freezers keeping the gelato nice and cool.

"There was this guy at a party a couple of days ago … who had the potential of being an okay guy," I hedge, the corners of my mouth rising as I remember the way his eyes darted across my chest, the sweet way he offered warmth, yet nothing else.

He didn't push me … he didn't hint at sex, although I could tell by his eyes that he found me attractive.

He made an impression.

And I find that I can't stop thinking about him.

Bean. Such a silly name.

Such an enigma.

"And?" Alice asks.

Alice's voice is colored with excitement ... such a romantic for someone who's still practically a child.

"And … nothing," I sigh with a shrug, biting the corner of my lip. "Everything about him screamed 'skater' and the last thing I'm looking for is some twenty-something-year old slacker who's reliving his childhood."

"Ouch, harsh," Alice laughs, her cinnamon eyes twinkling. "Did you take the time to get to know him, or did you just judge him because he looked like a skater? Not all skaters are bad guys."

I know she's insinuating her boyfriend, Jasper, who's a local up-and-coming legend in the skating world, even at seventeen. But I can't help the thoughts that enter my mind, those painful memories of my sister, Esme, looking for love wherever she could find it, ending up in the arms of a boy who cared more for a piece of wood with wheels than he did for the life growing inside my sixteen-year old sister's womb.

"He walked away before I had the chance," I tell her, not meeting her eyes, not wanting her to see the little white lie that's so easily etched on my face.

Alice shakes her head, not convinced, then stretches. She turns to the windows facing the boardwalk and freezes, her arms still in the air awkwardly at her sides. I gasp as she suddenly darts around the counter, her petite frame slinking past mine to duck behind the glass display.

Before I can process her action, before I can absorb the lines of worry creased along her forehead, the chiming bell hanging above the door rings. The smell of saltwater and sunshine greet my nose, bringing my attention from Alice to a tall man with bronze skin and seafoam eyes. My breath hitches in my throat, the blood leaving my face. Alice notices the change in my posture, the rigidity of my body as a new voice intertwines with the sugary-coated air of the gelato shop.

"Something with caramel and hazelnut, please."

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Hoodie Hood up in da house!

Jonesn's up next!

Reviews end world hunger.

Not really, but it'd be nice.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. If we did we'd'a pu-sum J. Wayne swag up'n dat biyitch.**

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**All for FrannyFranFran *scratches record* Fa-Fran-Fran..**

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**gRiNd**

**~*~ chapter eIgHt ~*~**

** ~ EPOV ~**

The look on her lovely face is one of surprise, her complexion paling, the apples of her cheeks blooming just as cherry as those blossoms on the trees outside.

I was hoping to get this reaction, either this or a smile; thankful she doesn't just point her soft, sun inspired finger towards the door and flat-out turn me away. I won't be surprised if she does with the manner in which I left her the other night - sour, as if she were nonessential.

To tell the truth, she's the exact opposite.

Sweet.

She matters.

My stomach settles, though my heart refuses to slow, pounding out the dent she's made in my ribs when her open mouth closes, those curved, coral lips hinting at the smallest smile.

She's fighting it.

I can tell.

But why?

_Why do you fight it?_

_What are you scared of, Sunny, my shut-off-from-the-world, sunshine girl?_

_Tell me._

_Talk to me._

"Did you want that in a cone or a cup?" she obliges my inner ramblings, only it's not what I want her to talk about.

"Which would you choose?" I ask, bound and determined to pull this sought after information from her. If she doesn't offer, I'm going to take.

"Depends, I guess," she shrugs, throwing her rag into a nearby sink, and approaching the counter.

I can see her legs through the glass, the frays from her cut-offs a bright white next to toned, tan skin. The top she's wearing leaves much to be desired, hanging loose over a proven, shapely body.

I know she's got one because I've seen it.

Dreamt about it.

And don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining.

As much as I like seeing all that skin, I'm not complaining.

The flowy, peach fabric compliments her skin, plunges deep enough to show off some supple chest.

No, not complaining - not complaining at. all.

It's becoming.

She looks beautiful.

Thank God I left Stretch behind.

"Depends on what, exactly?" I ask, getting back to the task at hand, which is information.

Right.

Moseying across the linoleum with more swag than J. Wayne, I cross my arms, resting my elbows on top of the cool counter, and shoot her an easy smirk.

"Enlighten me, please."

Licking her plump, bottom lip, she scrapes it with her teeth, peering down then peeking back up to answer while I focus on her mouth - desperately wanting to kiss it.

"Well, if I was in a hurry, or had some place to be, I'd go with the cup," she explains, licking that bottom lip again. "But if I had time to sit and enjoy the nice view then I'd go with the cone. A waffle cone … They're my favorite," she shares, and I can't help but wonder if her analogy has something to do with me.

Does she want me to sit and stay, enjoy the nice view?

I want to.

However, I won't be taking in the sun and fun happening outside, no. I'll be staring at the beauty standing right in front of me.

Sunny.

My shut-off-from-the-world, sunshine girl.

I'll get her to open up to me eventually.

And when she does, she'll live up to that name.

"Well then I'll take something with caramel and hazelnut," I repeat, looking up to catch the floating embers of that night's flaming fire.

"In a waffle cone, please."

* * *

And we continue to curb the conversational two-step.

*eyeballs Hood*

Not it!

Reviews make the characters talk. I swear *raises hands* they'll eventually talk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hoodie Disclaimer: I don't own twilight. I have something just as sweet ... my bestie, Jonesn.**

**This is for F to the R to the ... yeah. You know. It's for Franny-Fran.**

* * *

**GrInd **

**~*~ chaPter niNe ~*~**

**~BPOV~**

After washing and drying my hands, I side-step my niece, who's still hiding behind the counter. She's pulled herself into a tiny ball, her thin legs pressed to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. Those dark eyes of hers are wide, and staring up at me as she slowly shakes her head in a silent plea.

I pretend to ignore her as I grab the metal scoop and cone. Bean's lazily leaning against the glass now, watching as I dip the scoop into the gelato. One inch ... no, one_ fraction_ of an inch and he'll spy my suddenly deceptive niece hiding behind the counter.

I ramble off the price of the gelato, handing him the waffle cone full of hazelnut and caramel.

He exchanges the money for the cone, allowing his fingers to delicately brush against my own. My traitorous body blushes and shudders at the contact. I curse below my breath, earning a knowing smirk from Bean.

Still a stupid name.

If the innocent gliding of his fingers against mine aren't enough to set my body on fire, the way he licks the ice-cold cream from the cone is. My jaw goes slack as his tongue peeks out, taking a lingering taste of the decadent, icy sweetness. He twists the cone in his hand, licking all the way around, those seafoam eyes staring into mine the entire time.

"This is good, Sunny," he muses aloud, shooting me a grin. "But you know what'd make it more enjoyable?"

"What?" I ask, snapping out of my stupor.

"If you'd join me with a cone of your own."

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I mull over his words.

Should I join him?

I mean, what could it hurt?

Besides my heart ...

"I guess I could take a break."

_I'm only doing this because of Alice, because she's hiding from this guy, for whatever reason._

This is what I tell myself as grab a cup, then plop a tiny scoop of strawberry gelato inside. I smirk at his frown, and at the silent innuendo I've given him.

_Not much gelato._

_You don't have much time, buddy._

The sun is bright, bouncing off the white stretch of sand across the street. I hum around my spoonful as I join Bean at an umbrella-covered, wrought-iron table close to the front door, close enough to watch for potential customers.

"Tell me something about yourself," he suggests, taking another languid lick.

The dark shades propped on the top of my head slide down as I cover my eyes. The way his sea-green stare envelopes me makes me feel ...

Exposed.

"Like what?"

"Anything," he says, leaning forward on the table, watching me intently. "Tell me anything about you, Sunny."

My stomach flips with the sweet sound of his soft voice, the moniker he's so boldy given me. I mull over his words as I nervously stab at the melting contents in my cup.

"We'll start easy. What's your favorite color?" he asks, licking around that lucky cone again, matching me smile for silly smile.

This is ridiculous.

What's he going to ask next?

My sign?

"Seafoam," I tell him, putting another crease between his brows, which are a shade darker than the cinnamon spark of his hair.

"Seafoam?" he parrots, tilting his questioning head slightly to the side.

I nod.

"Yeah, it ranges from gray to green with light blue hues in between," I explain, taking in my favorite tint of them all.

The color of his eyes.

"I can't pick just one."

Breaking the connection we just briefly made, I stare out at the ocean, focusing my adoration on the swirls of turquoise and dolphin gray.

"You surprise me, Sunny," he reveals, pulling my attention from the unsettled sea, the crashing waves doing a number on the sand as well as the inside of my stomach.

Meeting my sun-squinted stare, he clears his throat. "So, are you from here?"

Shaking my head, my mouth falls open, surprisingly giving into his query freely.

I find I feel more and more comfortable around him with each passing minute.

"I'm from a small town in Washington State."

"Yeah?" he says, raising his eyebrows in more surprise at my admission, breaking the spell once eagerness infiltrates his voice. "What brought you to Venice Beach?"

He looks genuinely interested in my response ... just as intrigued in me as he did the first moment our eyes met. Swallowing an emotional lump in my throat, I remember the words that ran through my mind the first time I saw this man.

This sweet-tongued skater that's slowly weaseling his way into the off-center of my chest.

Dropping my eyes, I carelessly allow the truth to speak for itself.

"Heartache."

* * *

BPOV - Hoodie (but Jonesn helped me make soooo much with this chapter)

EPOV - Jonesn

Reviewing makes the calories in food disappear. Go ahead and try it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. And that sucks.**

* * *

**All for Franny, who doesn't suck.**

* * *

**gRiNd**

**~*~ cHaPtEr tEn ~*~**

**~ EPOV ~**

Waves crash as the wind whips, rippling the fabric flap on a ripped tabletop umbrella.

The layered length of Sunny's hair blows right along with it, the maple melded strands sticking stubbornly to the edge of her tinted-pink mouth.

Cloven and kissable.

I covet those fortunate tendrils, how they cling to her, tempting.

They're persuasive in strawberry, pretty in pink, the way they excite and sing to the tingling tips of my fingers.

This woman is a siren.

And me, just some helpless man. A defenseless and weak, stuck out on the crushing crests of her inspiring, russet sea - man.

Open and exposed to the elements.

Breathtaking.

Her features are sweet in their sadness, the smooth slope of her profile the color of maple cream.

I wonder if it tastes the same.

Dark and delicious.

Enticing.

She's mesmerizing.

But dangerous.

Deadly.

Serenades, yet tends to suffocate.

She'll kill me.

Surely, she'll kill me with the blame that glows in the gold specs of those torn, testing eyes.

But what she doesn't know is that I plan on passing, paying, that there's no price steep enough to run me off.

Not me.

Not from her.

Not from what I want.

No.

That's priceless.

Taking a deep breath in, I hold it, blowing it out against the warm, reassuring breeze. Salty on the salivating sides of my tongue. Sweet on the tip.

It isn't often that I curse mother nature in all her temperamental grandeur, isn't often that the fickle tempest doesn't woo to my will. Like today, settled and summery, the cloudless sky shining white off of the looking glass waters.

"You make heartache look appealing, Sunny," I tell her truthfully, reaching out to sweep sweet strands of molasses from the turned-down corner of her mouth.

Uninvited, my fingers linger there, trailing over the silky skin of her cheek to thumb and cradle her trembling jaw.

_Who broke it, baby girl?_

_Who broke your heart? Left it fractured and bleeding, hemorrhaging from the cracks of the fragmented pieces?_

"My parents divorced when I was nine," Sunny sighs, shrugging as she turns back to casually stir the melted contents of her cup. I take the opportunity to catch a drip of gelato before it hits the side of my finger, sure to listen intently.

"My dad just couldn't handle it, ya know? Everything in that house reminded him of her. So, he decided to move us here, here where he grew up."

"Us?"

Sunny nods. And even though the frown pulling down her sun-kissed cheeks is adorable, I still want to kiss it off and away. Far, far away.

"Yeah, me, my dad, and my sister."

"What about your mother?"

"Who knows?" she asks herself, giving me another shrug before licking her spoon, the action flipping my heart, stirring what lies well aware behind the tightening fly of my jeans. "We haven't seen or heard from her in years."

There's an air of intolerable disposition about her, but I see through it. I see through the uncaring facade of her words. It's branded on her heart, on her face, and in the endless depths of her eyes. She's wounded inside. Been wounded by this, her past, by someone or something.

"Is that the heartache you talk about, Sunny? Your mother?"

Pursing her lips, my sunny girl looks up from the cup on the table.

"My heartache …" she ponders, leaving me quieted and curious.

Hers.

Mine.

Same difference.

Gazing past me, she watches the low, white-capped waves somewhere in the distance.

"My heartache is watching my mother walk out the door and never coming back home," she says, breaking my own damn heart once she verifies my fears.

"It's moving hundreds of miles away to a strange place, leaving the only home I've ever known."

Pausing, her distant glare turns on me and I wonder what I've done. I wonder what all I'll have to do in order to right her suffering and her pain, the pure, misplaced hatred radiating from her unwavering gaze.

"It's watching my sixteen-year old sister fall in love with some loser who cared more about a skateboard than his own kid."

* * *

BPOV - Hoodie

EPOV - Jonesn (but Hoodie helped me make soooo much with this chapter and also with bcr, which will update once Franny gets her fanny on it) *pointed stare* love youuu

Reviews make us sing like Sirens, but badly...


	11. Chapter 11

**Hoodfabulous Disclaimer: **

**We don't own Twilight.**

**I don't even own this plot. **

**If I did, I'd killed Alice two chapters ago.**

* * *

**All for Franny, who isn't a chickenhead, but does love her chickens.**

**So motherclucking much.**

* * *

**GRiND**

**~*~ CHApTER ELeVEN ~*~**

**~ BPOV ~**

I startle myself with this guy … with this man who looks at me with open eyes, seeing something inside myself that I have yet to find. The truth of my heartache slips out, burning my tongue. The gelato does little to cool the bitterness embedded deep inside. The melting, pink mess settles inside my stomach, the sugar curdling along with the traitorous vulnerability hanging in the air.

The heat rises to my cheeks, probably as pink as the remains of the sugary sweetness in my nearly empty cup. Bean blinks, watching as the color rises. I hate the look playing on his face: the compassion, sympathy, remorse.

I hate it.

The chair brings a sickening scrape to the air, cracking and cutting through the tension, but not weakening it. No, not a bit. It's still there, that heavy fog of discomfort.

Then he grabs my wrist.

"I'm not sixteen," he whispers, in a low, firm tone. "I'm a skater, but I'm not him. I'm not some irresponsible little boy."

"Your point?" I grumble.

I gasp as he pulls me closer, bringing my body between his parted legs. My knees brush against the insides of his thighs.

So close … so very close.

Bean drops my wrist. Staring into my eyes, he brushes his fingers against the back of my legs, tickling my quaking knees with the light brush of his thumbs.

"Go out with me, and I'll prove it. I'll prove I'm not like him."

My stomach flips. Those long, lost butterflies come to life once again. I bite the inside of my jaw, forcing the pain forward. Anything to banish the fluttering inside my belly.

"How can you prove it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, trying to ignore those dexterous fingers, and the way they dance higher up my thighs. "How can you prove you're any different than any other loser with a board? Prove me wrong by knocking me up and sticking around?"

Bean's smile is brilliant. Upturned pink lips on a sun-quenched face.

"Tell you what … if I do," he says with a grin, his eyes ghosting on my body, then returning to my eyes. "I will."

I gasp, covering my mouth, yet failing to cover the unladylike snort. The giggles start in my belly, dancing with the butterflies. They join together, the giggles and swirling wings, fluttering to my chest. I laugh, a true laugh, throwing my head back and smiling at the sun.

Bean's face lights up, shining brighter than the fire suspended above our heads. He watches me laugh, his awe and wistful endearment etched in his features. Tightening his hold, he pulls me forward. My body willingly complies, and I find myself shyly resting my hands on his shoulders. Staring at his face is like staring at the sun.

Blaring.

Blinding.

Painful.

Beautiful.

"You're cute, Bean," I tell him, smirking. "Real smooth. Are you like this with all the girls?"

"What girls?" he asks, eyes wide, innocent.

But, are they true?

"Nice try, Bean," I murmur, hesitantly brushing an unruly lock of hair from his forehead. "Nice try."

Then I walk away, swallowing the knot of guilt lodged in my throat, and secretly smiling behind a curtain of hair at the unyielding determination playing on Bean's face.

* * *

Jonesn's creativity, and brilliant knowledge of smooth, flirty lines overwhelms me. I lurve you!

Jonesn's up next!

Reviews make us tingle in all the right places.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. We own each other and tonight, we own the niiiight lalala lala lalala lala lalala lala lalalaaaaaaaa lalala lala lalala lala lala lala lalaaaaaaaaa**

* * *

**For you Franny, I will stop singing now.**

* * *

**gRiNd**

**~*~ cHaPtEr tWeLvE ~*~**

**~ EPOV ~**

Sunny's laugh is like an inlet, a righteous right of passage to the all the wonders of an undiscovered world.

Captivating in its scarcity.

Angelic.

More beautiful than the setting sun, how it shines low, lightly licking the surf where I sit long after she's shot me down and then left me hanging.

I can't get the sound out of my head. Even that adorable snort. _Especially_ that adorable snort.

Just … adorable.

She's utterly luminous when she lets go, throws her head back and allows her wholly unanticipated amusement to show.

Entertaining.

Entrancing.

Aesthetically and acoustically pleasing.

It's honest, her reaction, making an _honest _man out of me.

As crazy as it sounds, it's true.

I will have no problem fathering our children.

No problem making them.

None.

And yet, Sunny finds it funny. She finds _me_ funny.

_Funny ..._

It didn't feel like a joke, a smooth line, not when I said it, not now when I'm still thinking about it.

_Is_ it crazy for me to really mean it? To feel the way I do and about a woman that I only just met?

Well ... if it is, then call me crazy.

Cracked.

Completely batshit.

'Cause I am.

Fucking crazy.

So fucking crazy for this cynical girl with the melancholy eyes and occasionally coaxable smile.

Huffing a laugh, I stand up to wipe the scratchy sand from the numb ass of my pants, grabbing my ride before walking back towards the boardwalk where I find her closing up shop.

"Do you walk home alone every night, Sunny?" I ask, startling a small gasp from between her lips.

When she turns, the walkway lamp lights up her relieved face and I see those lips are still just as pink.

The moon glows as she glowers.

"You scared the shit out of me," she grumbles, pushing against my chest to try and walk by but I grab her hand, holding it there, right over the rapid beat of my pounding heart.

I don't care if she feels it.

I hope she does.

"What?" she tilts her head, a small smile pulling at the edge of those pink lips. "You've got nothing better to do than stand around all day and stalk me?"

"Better? No," I answer honestly, letting her hand slip from my fingers, ignoring the scratch of the claws she bears from under her mumbled breath.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Following closely behind, I think that maybe I've made a mistake: sitting on her beach, getting lost in thought, not realizing how late it had gotten while I thought about her.

She doesn't even realize this is all her own fault.

"I never got an answer," I say, dropping my board to the ground to skate along beside her, appreciating the way her hair blows in the wind, how the thin, peach fabric clings to her body, the flap, flap, flapping of her pearl strapped flip flops while they compete with the gritty roll of the wheels.

"An answer to what?" she wounds, slicing with the sharp edge of that smart tongue.

And I get it.

I get it.

And I can play along.

Glad to.

"Our date, Sunny," I clarify, coming to a standstill and flipping the board up in my hand.

Sliding my free hand into hers, I thread our fingers before slightly swinging her around to face me.

Her hand feels cool, small and dainty in mine. They fit perfectly.

"Thirty minutes," she whispers once I pull her close, pushing the unruly auburn strands from her shoulder, breathing in deep as her strawberry-sweetened breath washes over me.

"Thirty minutes?"

Sunny nods, swallowing as she attempts to avoid my eyes.

Attempts but fails.

"It takes me thirty minutes to walk home, so you've got thirty minutes to convince me to go out with you."

She fights a losing battle with that smile and I grin wider, always down for a challenge.

Dropping my board back to the ground, I place one foot on the grainy surface. Sunny's gasp excites as I place my hands on her waist, nodding to the board before leaning in, my nose brushing gently against the delicate curve of her ear.

"I can do it in fifteen."

* * *

Go, Hoodie! Go, Hoodie! Who helped me! But then I tweaked it! So now I'm unsure of myself..

Reviews make us rap and lay down not so dope rhymes :/


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, but we do own a mutual appreciation for porn. That counts for something, right?**

* * *

**It's all for Franny, who doesn't have a porn addiction.**

**Allegedly.**

* * *

**gRind**

**~*~ cHaPter thIrTeeN ~*~**

**~ BPOV ~**

His fingers tickle my waist, dipping below the hem of my shirt. My stomach clenches with the contact, causing him to pause and smile. Those fingers dig in a little deeper into my flesh as he wiggles them around, bringing traitorous giggles bursting forth.

"Stop," I say, then laugh, elbowing him in his side.

I come into contact with the well-defined wall of his abdomen hiding behind the worn cotton of his tee. The giggles stop, and I worry with my bottom lip as the butterflies wake up once again. Bean raises his eyebrows, staring down at me with those seafoam eyes full of laughter and teasing smiles.

I wonder if he can see right through me.

Am I as transparent as I feel this very moment? Does he see the effect his smile has on me?

I'm Dorothy in the tornado, swept away and landing on a sugar-white beach. There's no wicked witch, but a man-boy with just as wicked of a smile and breathtakingly honest eyes.

I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks heat up after my prolonged stare. The smile is gone from his face, and now replaced with a tenderness that causes me to shift uncomfortably on the object below my flip-flops.

"Don't let our first date be in the emergency room," I pipe up, my voice sounding as awkward as I feel. "I'm expecting flowers and candlelight dinners. You know, the whole cliché' type of thing. You look like that kind of guy, Bean."

"Is that what you think?" he asks, eyes wide.

Bean sounds genuinely surprised, and maybe a bit insulted, by my assessment. I shrug, sucking in a breath as he places one foot on the board behind me, and sinks those fingers deeper into my skin.

"You underestimate me, Sunny."

The warm breath on my ear is an intoxicating whirlwind, spinning me 'round and 'round. A little chirp of surprise leaves my lips as he pushes off the ground with his free foot, and suddenly we're flying.

I'm flying down the boardwalk in his arms.

The simmering heat of the star-dipped evening has nothing on the warmth of his body. My back bumps against his chest occasionally when his foot hits the ground, sending those shivers and rousing tingles to all the right places. I close my eyes as the wind whispers through my hair, and breathe in the smell of the salt-laden ocean.

"You enjoying the ride?"

I smile at his words, then toss him a few of my own.

"It's the best ride of my life," I tell him, trying on a little more truth of my own. It just seems right, makes me feel good.

Bean's quiet for a bit, possibly mulling over my words before he speaks again.

"I know of an even better one ... if you're interested."

Bean's voice is husky, full of innuendo. I attempt to elbow him again, but only manage to nearly fall off the skateboard. His fingers leave my waist as I wobble, and I feel my heart fail, sucking in a silent breath when his arms wrap around my waist, replacing those deft fingers.

"Not that kind of ride, Sunny," he laughs, holding me tightly against his body, nuzzling the space behind my ear. "I was talking about the ferris wheel."

"Ferris wheel?"

"Yeah, the one on the Santa Monica pier," he responds, sending shivers down to the bone when his lips brush against me, tickling the snug of my ear. "Is that cliché enough for you?"

* * *

Thanks to all of y'all reading, rec'ing, and reviewing!

Thanks to Lolo84 for rec'ing in her story update!

BPOV - Hoodfabulous

EPOV - Jonesn

Reviews - make us see stars


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, and we don't feel funny today.**

* * *

**This lump of unrefined sugar is all for Fran. Sorry, not sorry for the toothache.**

* * *

**GrInD**

**~*~ cHaPter FouRTeeN~*~**

**~ EPOV ~**

Sunny's place is mere minutes from the pier, just a hop, skip and a sandy jump across the lamp lit beach. I bet the entire Pacific Park is visible from the over-the-garage apartment, the bay window that protrudes from the dusty-blue walls.

"It was my grandparent's place," she explains, looking a little abashed as she crosses her arms over her chest, that citrine studded sunburst sparkling as she tucks a tuft of hair behind one ear.

One, adorable ear.

"My sister and niece live in the apartment," she pauses. "And I live in the main house … with my dad."

Her mouth remains straight but tight, both lips trapped between those white teeth I know she has. I can tell it almost pains her to admit it.

"It's not by choice," she defends and I hold up my two hands, smiling at her subtle frustration. I'll probably smile at anything she says and does.

But not her pain.

Never her pain.

"There's not much you can do with an English degree other than teach," she reasons with a shrug, turning toward the pier and I follow.

I'll follow her anywhere. Listen to her talk, the soothing sound of her voice mixing perfectly with the whirling wind and rolling ocean. They carry, only amplifying the tenor of her timid tone.

I'm enraptured, all ears while she lays out the path of her life and the interesting lives of her loved ones.

Her sister is a waitress that never really grew up, the daughter following too closely in her mother's footsteps.

Their father was born in Italy, a small city from which her grandparents immigrated in the late Sixties. The gelato shop was their way of life, a birthright passed down to Charlie when they both died a few years back.

Her nonni from cancer.

Her poppi of heartbreak.

Just the thought causes mine to split.

The realization that one could love another so hard and so much that they would literally die without them.

Soul wrenching.

And yet, I find myself envious of him - her grandfather, the depths of his devotion.

His beloved wife's lifes blood had replaced his own, flowing freely through his veins. She was embedded in his DNA, her heart's beat the one thing that kept him alive and well. And when it stopped, so did he.

A beautiful sort of sad.

She was his everything. His downfall, his ultimate destruction.

Looking over at Sunny, I breathe in the sweet scent that sails on the breeze, noticing the nostalgic artistry of her lax profile.

If destruction is what befalls the love of a lifetime then I want her to be the one who does the damage, I decide, turning my gaze downward with a kick to the sand.

I smile at it - giddy with the knowledge that I'll be willingly letting her consume and then one day, destroy me.

Just like the sun.

Eyeing her hand, I take it in mine, threading our fingers, and sealing this silent promise I've made. A bond I never intend to break.

Not as long as I live.

Not even after I die.

Never.

* * *

Ow, my bottom right molar :(

Reviews substitute as a dreaded trip to the dentist.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hoodfabulous Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight and neither does she. I own charred, fanfiction bridges and dream boys with stars in their eyes. I own two jars of peanut butter and plenty of milk and bananas. I don't like lemonade, but I do love lemons. Add a little salt, not sugar. It fuels the fire and quickens the burn. I don't like drama queens, but I do love drag queens. And you? You own my heart.**

**All for franny. Some days I just feel like a boss. Hope you enjoy it - hoodie**

* * *

**GrIND**

**~*~ cHApteR fifTEEN~*~**

**~ BPOV ~**

* * *

I have grit in my eyes.

He has stars in his.

My resolve fizzes away, bubbling in an ocean of seafoam green.

Confessions are slick and pure, rolling from my tongue in bitter waves.

He's unfazed, blinking back the surprise, the anguish behind the words.

A warm breeze sifts through the crowd as we approach the pier. I smile, gripping his hand, and pretending …

I'm pretending the stars in his eyes will forever shine, and the sweetness melts forever on his lips. I'm pretending the slice of the knife twisting in my heart won't hurt when he finally decides to unveil himself, dropping the cloak and revealing his true intentions.

I'm pretending to be someone else tonight.

I'm no longer Bella, the sad girl with the cynical gut. I'm Sunny, the girl with the open arms and closed eyes. Closed because open eyes show the truth, and that's the last thing I need tonight … to see the truth.

I shove that thought from the front of my mind, hiding it in the back, and focusing on the sights around me. The screams of kids and adults alike fill the night air, along with metal sliding across tracks as the rollercoaster nearby winds through the air. The ferris wheel is alit, a languidly spinning circle in the sky, filled with smiles and laughter, first kisses and other firsts … my belly tickles just thinking about it.

I side-eye Bean, just thinking about it.

His eyes aren't focused on me, for once, and I find the fact entirely too unsettling. The tickles turn into twists as I follow his gaze, allowing my chest to collapse with a relieved breath. I find his eyes settled on a game booth and not another girl. Stuffed animals are suspended from the top, their patchwork smiles tighter than the hand gripping my own.

"I'm gonna win you a prize, Sunny," he whispers in my ear, warm and unwavering, as unwavering as those honest eyes. "Pick the one you want."

"You're pretty sure of yourself, Bean," I retort, smirking at his steadfast grin. "You're supposed to win first and then pick out a prize."

"Pick out a prize," is his simple response, then he leaves me standing here, staring at his ass in those low-slung jeans as he saunters away.

I silently pick out a prize, a pink unicorn with a Technicolor twist of a horn.

I already have him named.

Bean's sparkling smile pulls me from my thoughts. He tosses the grin over one shoulder, easy and smooth, just like him. I tuck the smile in my pocket, saving it for a rainy day, because they're sure to come, those rainy days, especially since he's gradually breaking my heart.

Breaking it by exposing it.

Bean's face returns to the task at hand, eyebrows drawn, fingers firm. Bubbles of pinks and blue, yellows and reds dance against a wall, shaking it for the people, the kids and the parents, lovers and friends. The balloons are fighting against the ocean wind that threatens to take them away. But it doesn't, the wind that is. Bean does. An arm is flexed. A dart is thrown. A balloon explodes. Then another. Then another. Then another …

Unicorn clutched to my chest, I crackle and pop, coming to life under his touch, under the teasing pads of his fingers as he rests them on my back. The Pacific Wheel calls our name, the gentle breeze whispering the words in my ears.

"That's the ride I was telling you about," Bean explains with red lips, red from the snow cone in his free hand. "Do you … wanna ride?"

The confidence halts, and his eyes are guarded. I don't like the look … the shyness, the uncertainty. It's not him. It's not my Bean. And now I wonder … maybe he's as scared as me.

"I'd love to ride," I tell him, grabbing the cone and staring him in the eye.

I bite into the ice, smiling around the strawberry concoction as I suck the coolness between my teeth. His eyes spin and so does my heart and I'm not Bella anymore. I'm Sunny.

I'm Sunny.

* * *

BPOV - me, Hoodfabulous. Mistakes are my own.

EPOV - my ff soulmate, bff, and the sister I never had, but always dreamed of. Ily

Reviews make me have sweet dreams of rippling water and smashed sunlight.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight and Bean isn't gay even though Hoodie's trying to make him out to be. Not that there's anything wrong with that..**

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**Here's some sugar and berries and so soft lips. And they're all for Franny**

* * *

**GrInD**

**~*~ cHaPter SiXTeeN~*~**

**~ EPOV ~**

The spinning spectrum of lights calls our name as she dumps the last of the strawberry slush into a nearby trashcan, willingly weaving her fingers into mine while we walk hand in hand to the back of the line.

Filled with twos, it moves quickly, the wheel soon packed with family, close friends and starry eyed lovers. Taking our seats, I'm more than disappointed when Sunny sits her horned prize between us.

"So, what's his name?" I ask, not all that sure why I call it a 'he.' The soft fur is pink, after all.

"Sir Swirl," she answers, flashing the safety bar a smile before lifting her pearly whites to me. Looking back down, she taps the end of his swirled horn.

"I think it suits him. Don't you?" Peering back up, twinkles of technicolor burst from her brown eyes.

"I do."

Holding her colorful gaze in mine, I move a strand of hair behind her ear, hiding it from the wind. Wanting to kiss her. Always wanting to kiss her.

But I don't.

Not yet.

"And you?" I ask, the side of my finger sliding down the length of her jaw. My eyes briefly drop to her lips to watch her pink tongue wet them. They glisten as I tap the underside of her chin.

"What's _your_ name?"

Sunny's smile grows wider.

"Sunny."

Flashes of turquoise triangles twinkling in her eyes, she looks proud to say it.

Sniffing a laugh, I don't push it as our buggy jerks and we're on our way, the turning wheel of lights and color slowly lifting us high in the night sky.

Needless to say, the ride isn't going the way I thought it would, the way I planned it to, and my frustrations focus on the majestic creature sitting between us the higher and higher we creep. My first instinct is to throw it over the side, and slide up beside my brown-eyed girl dressed in too-thin peach. However, somehow I doubt she'd appreciate the romantic gesture.

My opportunity reveals itself in a subtle shiver, the goosebumps that flourish all over her skin. Lifting Sir Swirl, I scoot over to take his seat, safely sitting him in mine as I place my arm around her, my relieved heart speeding when she automatically leans into my side, resting her head against my chest. I rest my chin on top of her head, and hold her close, running the palm of my hand up and down the length of her arm.

It feels good having her so close to me, keeping her warm.

I'll always keep her warm.

Safe.

Wrapped up in my arms and woven into my heart. The one that's been too easy for her to worm her way into.

For three whole minutes I get to bury my nose into her hair, breathe her in without being completely obvious. I wonder if she sniffs me too, if I have a smell, if the Cool Water cologne is even fresh anymore, and most importantly, if she likes it.

I hope she likes it.

Three minutes isn't long enough for me to get my fill, I decide, as the runner of the ride stops us at the bottom, unlatching the bar before handing me back my board. I offer her my hand to help her up and out.

Sir Swirl in one arm. I put my other back over her shoulders and she looks up, hesitantly hooking hers around my waist.

It'd be so easy to lean down and do it - put my lips against her lips. So easy that I almost think she wants me to.

And I almost do, but ...

"It's getting pretty late," Sunny whispers, a look of regret replacing the bursts of bright technicolor lighting up her eyes.

"Well, let's get you home then."

I twist my fingers through hers, giving them a slight squeeze. She's silent as we merge with the crowd, my thoughts lost in the trill of the music blaring from the rides, the old school hip-hop blasting through my mind.

Once we reach the end of the pier, I guide her to the beach, avoiding the same route back to her place. She melts into my side as we walk along the shore, only stopping long enough to remove our shoes. They dangle from our fingers as the surf crashes against our feet. The lights from the pier reflect off the dwindling seawater, slowly melting away with each pull of the water returning to the ocean.

Sunny doesn't speak again until we're standing in front of her home, bathed in the light of the moon.

"I had a good time," she says, wedging the corner of her lip between her teeth. I bravely lift a hand and cradle her jaw, releasing her chewed, bottom lip with my thumb.

"Me too. We should do it again sometime," I suggest, hope filling my chest as her eyes lift to mine.

"I'd like that."

That tempting, pink tongue of hers darts out and I take it as an invitation, dipping down to place a kiss at the edge of her mouth.

The moment I pull away is when she turns her head, sending fireworks shooting off into the starry night sky as her mouth collides with mine. I have no idea if they're real or imagined. A pyrotechnic spectacle of lips and tongues and teeth.

I like to think it's us.

Magical and magnetic, my fingers tangling into her hair, my hands bracing the back of her head, eliciting low moans as I press even harder.

I want this girl, want her so bad I can taste it - strawberry and sugar, her want for me and how she fights it, pushing firmly against my chest.

Our ragged breaths overpower the whooshing waves from the nearby ocean.

Her flat palms ball my shirt into her fist, letting it go with one last push.

"Night, Bean," she wishes, leaving me standing there in a Sunny induced haze, lost in swirls of sugar and berries, her soft lips as they disappear behind her front door.

* * *

jonesy aka bean

hoodie aka sunny - my love, my heart, my everything. I love you for loving and always helping me even in the midst of some wicked PMS *kisses*

Reviews light up our life like a starry night sky full of fireworks


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, but we own the soundtracks. That has to count for something, right?**

**For Franny**

* * *

**grIND**

**~*~ CHAPter sevenTEEN~*~**

**~ BPOV ~**

It's been two days since the impromptu date, two days since I pressed my lips so boldly against _his_. Two days, but it feels more like two million years. The seconds tick away, the minutes, then the hours. I spend the weekend immersing myself in the menial tasks of washing dishes, and folding clothes, only to find myself standing dumbly in the middle of a room, a stack of folded towels clutched to my chest, and I imagine a goofy smile plastered on my face.

He's done this to me … Bean. Bean and his silly beanie, his ridiculously soft lips, and his sweet sincerity.

Sometimes my smile melts away, replaced with a frown. I'm cynical, at best, and I wonder how long this will last. How long will this kind-hearted, determined man, lost in his childhood hobby, continue to pursue me? Will I push him away, just as I have the handful of other guys I attempted to date in the years prior?

The constant wondering busies my mind, but not enough to erase the memory of my niece ducking behind the gelato display, a look of pure horror awash on her face, and a tiny finger pressed against her silent lips. I've banged on my sister's apartment door for two days, and even used my spare key once, only to find a messy excuse of a shared space with clothes scattered about, and an absurd amount of dirty dishes overflowing from the sink. My sister works an insane number of hours, and my niece, like any other teenager, usually holes herself up at a friend's house on the weekend.

By Monday night I've had it with Alice and her disappearing act. She's normally home within a couple of days, and never avoids my calls like she has over these past few days. I'm so upset that I avoid work, calling in Monique, a part-time employee, to fill in for me. I hop in the Rabbit and search around town for my niece, stopping unannounced at her friends' house, scoping out the local skate shops, and still don't find her. The blistering, California sun sinks in the horizon when it hits me.

_The skate park._

Gunning the protesting engine of the tiny, cream-colored convertible, I head in the direction of the Venice Skatepark. I know I've arrived when the sight of the pristine, white beach, leaning palms, and a crowd of cheering spectators greets my eyes. I park the car, then hesitantly approach the group, standing behind the metal rail separating the sunken, curved molds in the ground from the outside world. A familiar hip-hop song thumps across the crowd, and I smile at the old school tune … the same tune from the night on the pier, from the night with Bean.

My smile melts away, replaced with a deep intake of breath as a child no older than ten stands pushes off the ground with his board, twisting in the air in a move I've only seen a handful of times. His unruly, red hair peeks from the edges of his helmet, curling with the warm breeze as he twists in the sky. It's not until those wheels of his return to safe ground that I breath again, relief washing through my body.

I push away from the rail and search the crowd, hoping to spy raven hair and twinkling eyes, and I do. But it's not relief that consumes me once I spy my bikini-clad niece. It's complete rage.

A tall, lanky guy around thirty-years old stands in front of Alice, his finger pointed so closely in my niece's face that it's practically touching the tip of her nose. Alice stands rigid, worrying her shaking fingers in her hands, her shoulders stiff, eyes downcast and full of tears.

I'm bewildered, and enraged, not only at the guy screaming at my niece, all up in her grill, but at Bean, who's standing beside the man. Bean's mouth is turned in a frown as his eyes dart between my young niece and the crazy man screaming at her. And he's wearing …

A business suit?

Tall, dark, and handsome has nothing on Bean. The ebony slacks and jacket slung over his shoulder are a stark contrast to the white, slightly unbuttoned shirt below. Bean's hair is still a haphazard mess, flopping in his eyes, those seafoam eyes.

I falter for a moment, dazzled by the clean cut of fabric against his tone body, but manage to pull myself together once the crazy man's voice rises again. The man instantly stops hollering once I wedge myself between him and my trembling niece.

"Get out of her face. Who do you think you are?"

* * *

BPOV - Hoodie-Hood

EPOV - the fabulous Jonesn

Reviews = sunshine that will melt the cold away. Brrr!


	18. Chapter 18

** Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. **

**Clarification: _I_ do not own the Twilight soundtrack. **

* * *

** For Franny, who I don't think owns the Twilight soundtrack either ... Not that there's anything wrong with that..**

* * *

**GrInD**

**~*~ cHaPter EiGhTeeN~*~**

**~ EPOV ~**

Sunny looks beautiful when she's angry. Alive and glowing. The color of her skin turning the prettiest shade of passion fruit.

Delicious.

"Hello? Did you hear me? I said, who the hell are you and why do you have your finger in my niece's face?" Lips parted, her nostrils flare. A picture of impassioned perfection.

"Who am I? Who am _I_?" Stretch bellows, his unnaturally huge ego blocking both of our views. I want to tell him to shut the hell up and back the fuck off. There's seldom a time I _don't_ want to. The guy's a fucking ass and always has been. But what am _I _supposed to do about it when I know it's the best _he_ can do? He's had a rough life, been my best friend since the third grade. I know him. I'm used to it. However, when he steps closer to my girl, so do I, reaching out to pull him back as he extends his arm, that stupid finger erect and pointing again.

_Jesus._

"I'm Stretch Crowley - _the _Stretch Crowley. Oldest friend of this skateboard legend here," his dumb ass finger points to me, "and Jasper's dad. And your little _niece_ over there is a distraction," he explains, moving behind me without much of a fight. Though, he continues to shout over my shoulder.

"I already told her to back off, but the little bitch doesn't lis-"

"Hey!" Sunny and I both blurt at the same time, and I crane my neck to glare at him.

Since when did we start calling ladies bitches?

"That's enough," I tell him, turning back to face Sunny, who seems anything but. She eyes the one I'm embarrassed to call a friend, before finally looking up at me.

"And you," she says, taking in the stiff penguin suit with one slow sweep. Her mouth is still stuck in a straight line, but her eyes give her away.

Sunny likes it.

My lusty-eyed sunny girl. My angry girl.

She likes it a whole hell of a lot.

"Me." I confirm, 'cause I'm still me - suit and all. I'm still Bean. All hers. Even though my small smirk narrows her stare; a sure sign that she's not amused at the moment.

"Where were you when that finger of his was in some helpless fifteen year olds face, huh?" she asks, jabbing me in the chest with hers, the chipped rays still shining in the sunlight. She's clearly offended the helpless fifteen year old in question.

"Hey, I'm not helpless!"

"Yea, well, you certainly ain't help_ful_. That's for sure," Stretch interrupts, the venom of his words rushing through his only son's veins.

"Hey!" Jasper shouts, emerging from the crowd, and wrapping his arms around the girl's small frame. Ribbons of ebony hair peek out from under the beanie I gave him for his fourteenth birthday; the first year he went all the way to nationals. He's grown so much since then, littered his skin with tattoos, the gauges in his earlobes getting bigger and bigger with every passing week.

He looks like a punk, and plays the part well, but is really a good kid at the center.

A great one, actually.

His dad has high hopes for him, always comparing him to his _'Uncle'_ Bean. But he's more than that. He's better than me.

"You can't talk about Alice like that, Dad. I love her. I'm always gonna love her. So, just get over it already."

Sunny rolls her eyes at his declaration, but the sweetness of it warms my heart and makes me smile.

Classic.

Textbook Sunny and Bean.

"You heard 'em Stretch. Get over it already." I parrot, sharing an amused exchange with Jasper at the same time I feel another jab to the chest.

"Hey, don't think that adorable smirk of yours excuses you from not standing up for my niece," Sunny informs me, a small smile pulling on the corner of her lips. It only earns her more flack from the raven haired girl, strips of dyed pink, blue, and purple whipping around with the unruly wind.

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, Bella," she promises, so I smirk wider, bigger; more than ecstatic to finally know her name. Her real one.

"Yeah," I tease. "You heard her, _Bella … _She's not helpless."

* * *

Hoodie's up next and NaNo's over so she can stop neglecting us! Yay! *chants* Tatted.. Tatted.. Tatted..

And oh, did you hear she won 6 awards for her entry in the Age of Edward contest?! **6!** She did. She did. And I'm so proud of her! So happy to call her my bestest friendxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

We like reviews like Sunny likes Bean's suit - a whole hell of a lot.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hoodfabulous Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I own a box of Christmas snack cakes. Well, half a box of Christmas snack cakes. :(**

**For Franny, who better bake me a cake someday. :D**

* * *

***~* GrInD *~***

**ChApTeR NiNeTeEn**

**BPOV**

"You could have told me you were dating some sort of … skating superstar," I admonish my niece.

Alice shrugs her shoulders, sighing as she follows me around the above-garage apartment. I'm walking around with a large laundry basket propped on one hip, steadily tossing dirty, rumpled clothes inside. My sister, Esme, has yet to come home, and it's late. My heart swells in my chest for my oldest sister, always working so hard to save up for a home they can someday call their own.

"I knew what you'd say. You'd tell me he's a loser because he's a skater. You'd tell me he's too old for me and he only wants one thing." Alice pauses, taking a deep breath. "But, if you told me those things you'd be wrong. He's a good guy. He's never tried to … you know. Wants to wait for that. Jasper respects me. He's not like other guys my age."

"He's not even your age," I mutter below my breath.

The kid is seventeen, and although that's only a couple years older than Alice, he's tittering on adulthood. It'd be unnatural for me to worry about his intentions, considering Alice is only fifteen.

"Bean likes me," she says, ignoring my proclamation. "He's always trying to get Stretch to give me a chance, but Stretch only cares about Jasper's future."

I laugh, unable to smother the sound with the sight of my niece's grimace.

"Alice, worrying about your child's future is a _wise_ thing, not that I'm taking up for him or anything. He was entirely out of line to scream at you like that."

Alice opens her mouth to respond, but a chirping sound quickly interrupts her. Hot pink lips pull back into a grin as she gazes down at her phone. Her eyes dart between me and the screen, but I pay her little attention. I'm more worried about how to wash the three loads of laundry that I've gathered with the one cap full of detergent Esme has left.

After helping Alice clean the rest of the apartment, I trudge home. My father works the night shift, and he's already gone for the night. I take a long shower and enjoy the solitude for a while, vegging out in front of the TV. The chiming sound of my nearby phone alerts me of a text. My eyebrows furrow as I glance down at the glowing screen and unfamiliar number.

_Have dinner with me tomorrow night - unknown number_

_who is this? - Sunny_

_How many men ask you to dinner, Sunny? I need to assess my competition - unknown number_

My lips curl in an unwelcome smile. Stretch's carelessly tossed words are permanently burned into my brain and the smile melts away.

_I'm Stretch Crowley - the Stretch Crowley. Oldest friend of this skateboard legend here._

Bean isn't just some twenty-something guy lost in his youth. He's apparently a skateboard legend, and that doesn't settle well with me. I was just beginning to warm up to him and then, bam. I'm hit with this new information about him that's near impossible to process.

_What would a skating legend want with me? I'm just a nobody girl working in a gelato shop. What's the catch? What does he want from me?_

My mind's telling me to back off, to save myself the heartache, but the swollen organ in my chest is begging me to go for it, to leap into it blindly and embrace my happiness for as long as possible.

_how did you get my number? alice? - Sunny_

_I'm afraid that's classified information. You didn't answer my question. Dinner? Competition? - unknown number_

_yes to dinner, and no to competition, Bean. who could possibly compete with you? - Sunny_

* * *

BPOV - me, Hoodie-Hoodfabulous

EPOV - Jonesn, my bestie

reviews = ... a candlelight dinner? Is that too cliché? Sometimes I like cliché. :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, but this moment, we own it *raps to 2Chainz***

**This is obviously not Jonesn postin.' She's at work doin' the damn thang, so I'm postin' for her.**

**For Franny, who I haven't heard rap.**

**Yet.**

* * *

**~*~ GriNd ~*~**

**ChaPter TweNty**

**EPOV**

Twisting off the top of an ice cold Corona, I stare down the little shit from across the patio table.

"What was that today?" I ask. Bottle in hand, I raise it in the air, waving a finger back and forth with just the hint of a smile.

It's kind of funny now, thinking back on it - the whole skate park spectacle.

"What was what? What are you talkin'bout?" Stretch stretches, answering my question with a question while he watches his lovestruck kid ride the sides of my empty inground pool that hasn't been filled with water since the day I moved into the place.

Fucker knows exactly what I'm talkin'bout.

"What's so wrong with Jasper having a girl, huh? She's a nice girl," I defend for the umpteenth time. "Has a nice aunt." This news makes him finally turn to face me, squinting out the sun. He smiles.

"Yeah?"

Taking a swig of my lime-laced relaxation, I set the bottle back down on the wrought-iron table, studying it before glancing back up with a guilty expression. One that says I don't feel guilty at all.

"Yeah."

"What is it with you guys and these Swans, huh?" he ponders, shaking his head. "Her sister free? Maybe I need to look into that, ya think?" he jokes. At least, I hope he is.

From what Sunny's told me of her sister it seems like she was in the same boat as Stretch growing up - left alone to be a single, clueless parent. They were both just kids themselves.

I remember when Stretch first told us - me and my parents. His mom had kicked him out, which wasn't such a big deal. She worked nights and he stayed with us most of them anyway. Even though my parents took him in full time, they were still somewhat disappointed. And while they never said anything outright, I don't think they trusted me to be alone in his company anymore, which I eventually understood. Stretch was a couple of years older, more experienced, and grew up under different circumstances than I did. But they never judged him. No, instead they took him in as one of their own and spoiled their pseudo-grandbaby rotten. Jasper has never wanted for anything. Not until Alice that is.

"Maybe you should back off a bit," I suggest, glancing over just in time to see Jasper catching some nice air. "He's seventeen. He's gonna do what he wants … who he wants," I remind his hypocritical father, trying to talk some sense. "You're only pushing him away, I'm tellin' ya. You're on the kid's ass all the time, taking the concerned parent thing to the extreme. He's a good kid, Stretch. Hardly anything like you at all," I add, dodging the bottle cap he flicks at my head. "You need to back off," I warn. "Or is that what you want, for him to resent you?"

Leaning forward, Stretch rests his elbows on his knees. With an unamused huff, he gives the ground a subtle shakes his head. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

Triumphant, I take a celebratory drink before calling Jasper over to join us.

"Sup pup," I greet, kicking out a chair for him to take a seat.

Shaking my nearly empty bottle, I tempt with a trade. "There's a sip in here, but it's gonna cost ya."

What the hell do I care? It's mostly spit anyway.

"Yeah, and what's that?" Jasper bites, toying with one of the two silver studs protruding from his lower lip.

"Your girlfriend's number."

* * *

I'm posting for Jonesn who avoided the dinner date like the plague. Guess I'm up next!

I should have mentioned this on my last update. Sometimes people make mistakes in their reviews. I review every chapter of every fic I read, and sometimes I make a mistake in the review. That doesn't mean I'm unintelligent, or not 'very astute.' It means I'm human and make mistakes, just like everyone else. That being said, if you find a mistake a reader of ours leaves in a review for our story, it doesn't make you any more intelligent by pointing it out to them in a rude manner i.e. as a guest review in a chapter of one of THEIR stories. That just makes you mean, and Jonesn and I don't like mean girls. Be sweet to one another, please.

EPOV - Jonesn

BPOV - Hoodie

Reviews = candlelight, moonlight, or a quartet? A home-cooked meal sounds just as sweet to me. Hmm ... Bean in an apron? Standing over a hot stove? DED.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, or much else for that matter. **

* * *

**For Ran with an F**

* * *

***~* GrInD *~***

**ChApTeR Twenty~oNe**

**BPOV**

My heart flutters in my chest, and the wind whips through my hair. The loose strands slap my face, leaving a sting in their wake. I curse below my breath, feeling ridiculous for driving with the top dropped back.

My hair's gonna look a hot mess.

My stomach's already knotted in nerves. The fact that my hair probably looks like a rat's nest makes me even more queasy. This is no impromptu date I'm heading to. It's no last minute 'let's go to the pier' kind of thing. No, Bean invited me to dinner - at his home. I'd be alone with him in his home, and after that ... who knows? Maybe he's planning on taking me somewhere fancy, somewhere nice.

Not that he needs to.

I feel silly in the tight, navy, wrap dress I'm wearing. It's nothing special, but it's the nicest thing I own, which is kind of sad. The heels on my feet are scuffed on the bottom and sides. They are also a little too big, considering I borrowed them from my sister, Esme, who was way too excited about my date, considering her own history with skater boys. I feel like a kid playing dress-up, or maybe I'm too dressed up. Bean hadn't specified where our date would take place. He'd simply shot me an address and told me to meet him there.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised when I arrive at the address Bean gave me. The house is massive in size, beautiful, elegant, and as intimidating at the date I'm about to go on. It's also situated on the sugary beach where I first met Bean. Not only is it the same beach, it's the same house.

It takes three tries before my trembling finger properly hits the doorbell, not that it matters. Bean opens the door just as my finger touches the button, almost as though he were waiting for me, watching for me.

The smile on his face is as bright as the smoldering sun melting into the ocean. My eyes scan his clothes, and my chests tightens. He looks good in a pair of dark-wash, low-slung jeans, socked feet, and the white, v-neck shirt, but what appeals to me the most is the apron tied neatly around his waist. The top part of the apron hangs down, as he's forgone cinching it around his neck. The smell of simmering tomatoes gusts through the door ... simmering tomatoes and something else …

"Is something burning?" I ask, glancing around him.

Bean's eyes widen and he takes off running, cursing lowly under his breath. I stand awkwardly outside, then take one timid step over the threshold. Pulling the door behind me, I take a quick look around.

I find Bean in the kitchen, his face crestfallen, and a pile of burnt garlic bread piled on a plate near the stove. He takes a pot of pasta and dumps it in a colander in the sink. The pasta falls out in one, big glob, and I have to cover my mouth to suppress the giggle that's threatening to spill out.

"Want me to turn off the stove?" I offer, eyeballing the bubbling tomato sauce nearby.

Bean's eyes widen again.

"Shit!" he hisses, whipping around to fumble with the dials. The tomato sauce bubbles and pops, splattering all over Bean's crisp, white shirt. He grabs the pot from the eye, all the burners now a glowing red, and tosses the smoking pan in the sink alongside the pasta. After a dejected sigh, he glances down at his shirt

"You find the place okay?" he asks, peeling the sauce-covered material from his body. My impending giggles wander away, swallowed down as I stare slack-jawed at the half-naked man standing in front of me. His skin looks darker in the dimmed light, soft over hardened hills of well-worked muscle. I find it hard to believe that this man has ever resembled a beanpole.

Meeting my wandering eyes, the irritation on his face fades away. He shoots me a cocky, teasing grin, stretching a bit to show off what I've been missing. I shake off my Bean-induced stupor and manage to shoot him a faux frown, as he reaches for the phone.

"How do you feel about delivery?"

**gRiNd**

The sun's long dipped into the sea, leaving us with only the glow of tiki torches and the uneaten crusts of our pan pizza. I'm full of garlic bread. High on wine and the wealth of personal information Bean's bestowed upon me.

He's twenty-nine, the only son of the two most loving, supportive parents in the world, owns his own company, and is sorry that he hadn't been sticking up for Alice earlier that day.

In his defense, he had gone to bat for the two love birds plenty of times before. And seeing as he's the reason that Stretch is allowing them to see each other now, I guess I can find it in my guarded heart to forgive him. It's impossible not to, watching the shadows dance across his face, drawing my attention. He's staring at me, at the corner of my mouth to be more accurate.

"You have something right ... there." Bean's thumb brushes across my bottom lip. The heat rises to my cheeks, causing his eyes to soften. I wait on him to kiss me, but he doesn't. He just waits, and watches, licking his thumb clean.

"Too bad there's no water in the pool," I say, desperate to break the intimate silence while our feet touch and tease.

"I get more use out of it this way," Bean informs, his mind obviously not on the same dirty track as mine.

"Then maybe you're using it wrong."

Brows raised, he looks surprised, dropping his gaze, as he shyly smiles.

"Maybe," he chuckles. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

What do I have in mind?

I glance down at the empty pool where our feet dangle, threaded together. I imagine the pool full of water, the surface glittering beneath a luminous, white moon. I imagine the ripples of starlit water wavering around us. We're weightless and suspended, wrapped around each other beneath a blanket of stars.

I have Bean's body, wet and slippery in mind.

"Skinny dipping," I inadvertently blurt, slapping my hand over my mouth before the words are fully out.

Bean's shy smile widens on his face, replaced with a satisfied grin.

"Alright then, just let me whip out my hose."

* * *

Jonesn here posting for Hood and I can't stop laughing. Whip out my hose.. *snort*

Reviews make Bean whip it, whip it good.

Did you hear about the bad boys contest Hoodie's hosting? Oh, yea. It's gonna be guuuuud. Search bad boys of twilight to follow. There's a blog link for info. Submissions start February 1st and I can't wait!

**Word count 1,214**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. And we own that.**

* * *

**This little ride of slip and slide is written for Fran**

* * *

**~*~ GriNd ~*~**

**ChaPter Twenty-tWo**

**EPOV**

Sunny's eyes go wide, her cheeks staining just as ruby as the bottom of her sipped glass of wine. I know what that sounded like and I know what she's thinking. I'm thinking it, too.

"Not _my _hose. My watering hose. The garden hose," I try to amend, but only make it worse. There's just no saying hose without it sounding dirty. I sigh and we both chuckle. "You know what I mean."

Nodding, she glances down, letting her hair fall to cover the side of her face. I place it behind her ear.

"I'll be right back."

My bare feet slip from hers and I stand, looking down in question when Sunny asks what I'm doing.

"Getting the hose," I tell her like she should know, turning away, but she stops me by wrapping her hand around my ankle.

"Don't do that, Bean. I was just kidding," she wounds, and I pout.

"So you don't want to swim naked with me?"

Sunny tries not to smile, but she does. Gumming her lips, she looks away.

"I didn't say that."

I feel her fingers loosen, the pads lightly skimming over my skin. I shiver, but not because of the breeze. No. This is the most intimate way anyone's ever touched me.

"So you do want to swim naked with me?" I ask 'cause I can't help it. I'm still a guy. A relentless guy who wants to hear her say it.

"I didn't say that either."

Squatting down, I place a hand over hers, stroking it just as lightly, my other reaching out to turn her chin.

I beg to differ.

"I'm pretty sure you did."

Sunny's gaze locks with mine, gold specs glowing in the back patio porch light. I keep my sight on them, breathing in her breath, dipping down to kiss her mouth. Our lips part and our tongues touch. I keep watch as her eyes flutter, and she fights a losing battle to keep them open.

I'm tempted to wrap her in my arms, pick her up, and take her to my bedroom. I'm there. I want this. Ready and willing. I want her more than anything I've ever wanted before.

To skate.

To succeed.

Anything.

I want her more.

So much so, that I follow when she breaks away, needing her breath just as badly as she does.

"Okay, okay," she gulps, our lips colliding like magnets. She mumbles against mine. "I want to."

The sun's long gone, having taken its heat. It sank into the ocean, leaving streaks of purple and pink. I breath in the smell of the salt water, hoping it'll soothe the skipping beat of my heart as I lead Sunny to the beach. She's hiding a smile behind her hair, her fingers trembling between mine. I drop her hand, choosing to wrap my arm around her waist, melding her against me before we reach the rush of crashing water.

Sunny shivers, trying to break free and run, but I hold her tight, my fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. It clings to her frame, as I bunch it in my hands. Surprisingly she raises her arms, giving me permission to lift it over her head.

"You think someone's gonna see us?" she asks, her eyes growing wide as she scans the deserted beach. One hand on her bare waist, my other cradles her jaw.

"Nah, private beach," I answer, dipping down for a quick kiss. She's too cute to resist. "Besides, the risk of getting caught is half the fun."

Sunny pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, then scans the beach one last time. I try not to stare down at the nude, sheer bra and panties she's wearing, but it's so damn hard.

Literally. It's so damn hard, as I feel her fingers curl under the waist of my jeans. I pull my shirt up and over my head, as she works my button and fly, resisting the urge to press into her hand as it grazes over me.

The urgency subsides once we're both down to our last pieces of clothing. I swallow when Sunny reaches behind her. Those eyes burning into mine. My gaze drops with her bra, and I stare like some depraved sex fiend, some horny teenaged motherfucker who's never seen a perfect pair of tits before.

I've seen tits before. Plenty. Just not Sunny's. Full and round. The heavy flesh is a shade lighter than her olive-toned skin; a dusty brown surrounds her erect nipples.

I lick my lips, wanting so bad to taste.

My hands go to the waistband of my briefs at the same time Sunny's do her panties. Pulling them down her long legs, she's graceful and fantasy worthy while I fumble, unable to look away even when my foot gets caught up in the bothersome ball of cotton.

Once they're kicked aside, I just stand there like a dumbass, trapped in my own head, paralyzed by her naked body. Finally prying my eyes away from it, I see she's trying to do the same.

My fingers twitch and I reach out for her. They tingle when she takes them. I lead her out hip deep and my whole body hums, as she melts into it, her arms wrapping securely around my neck.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she says, the soft vibrations of her voice rippling like the water against my chest. I like knowing that it's me that brings this side out of her.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass, maybe. I don't know. All I know is that it's nice just holding her like this. I'll take it. I'll take anything she feels comfortable offering while we wade further and further out into the blue-black of the ocean.

The fog lifts from my mind when her legs wrap around me. My heart hammers as the insides of her thighs slip and slide over my waist, and she nestles my hardened length against her heat, which feels just as slippery.

Holding back a moan, I kiss her shoulder.

"I can't believe you're doing this either."

* * *

I can't believe it either. Can you? How 'bout you, Hood? *snickers*

Reviews maybe make Bean slip it in. Just the tip...


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own a bunch of tiny, gassy dogs**

**and Jonesn's a huge dog lover. She especially loves her neighbors dogs. :D**

**For Franny-Fran, our favorite dawg up in da hood.**

* * *

**~*~ GriNd ~*~**

**ChaPter TweNty-ThRee**

**BPOV**

_I can't believe I'm doing this._

My heart pounds against his chest, and I wonder if he can feel it. I wonder if he can feel the erratic beat, the way it skips just for him. I wind my fingers through his catastrophe of strands, all wet and slick with sea water. That's where my focus lies. Not on the fact that my legs are cinched around his waist, hooked at the ankle. I'm certainly not concentrating on the way he not-so-innocently thrusts against me with each passing wave.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" he whispers.

I swallow his words with a kiss. The lies I tell myself fizzle away with the seafoam. Bean moans into my mouth, and we sink further into the water.

"Take a deep breath," he warns me, mumbling against my kiss-swollen lips.

I do as he says, taking a deep, shuddering breath. My lips find his once more before he pulls me under. The pounding sound of waves fades away. I'm submerged beneath the salty sea. Tiny bubbles tickle my flesh, dancing up my naked body. I seek him out, running my fingers along the lean muscles in his back, lightly scratching my nails across the surface of his skin. Bean deepens the kiss with my touch, and I hear him moan even through the water flooding my ears.

I gasp when we break the surface, and there's something about the way he stares at me that makes me want to break all my silly rules just for him: pupils dilated to the point that his eyes are black, pink lips puffy from my eager lips, and wet strands of his unruly hair clinging to his forehead. There's a desperate intensity to his eyes, one that I've only seen one time before.

He looks at me the way my dad looked at my mom. Like he'd die without her by his side.

"Oh, my God," I mutter.

The darkness in his eyes fade as I untangle myself from his embrace. The water isn't my friend as I fight towards the shore. My eyes sting, and it isn't from the burn of the salt. The rapid beat of my heart thrills in my chest, bouncing in double-beat as his hand finds its home around my wrist.

"Sunny, wait."

"I'm sorry," I feebly mumble, tugging my arm from his grasp. "I'm so sorry, Bean."

"Stop running from me, Sunny."

Bean's words cause me to pause. I feel his breath on my shoulder. He cautiously pulls me against him. The beat of his heart bounds spastically against my back. I close my eyes as my father's words from so long ago flash through my mind.

_"Why do you run from me, Renee? Why are you always running? One day I'll be tired of chasing you."_

When my eyes open it's as though I'm looking at the world in an entirely different light. The white stretch of sand on the deserted beach glows beneath the moonlight. The whitewash of the waves dissolves on the shoreline, pulled back by the tide, then tossed forward again. I turn and gaze up at him, at my Bean, and his worried eyes.

"No more running," I promise him.

The smile on his upturned cheeks is blinding. The tips of his fingers dance along my forehead as he pushes a wet strand of hair aside. My eyes flutter closed as his lips find mine once more. We sink again, but this time it's in the shallow water near the shore.

Bean falls between my parted legs. The ocean laps at our skin. The sand collapses beneath us. Bean's lips abandon my own. Light kisses creep down my neck as his lips travel lower. I toss back my head, arching my back when his lips draw near my breast. My nails dig into the sinking sand below with the touch of his tongue sweeping across my hardened nipple.

Bean cups his hand around my other breast, teasing one nipple with his fingers and one with his tongue. I open my eyes, first staring at the blanket of a starlit sky behind his head, then at him as he rolls his tongue around one, hard peek. His eyes meet mine, and he holds my gaze, watching me as I watch him pleasuring me. My breath is trapped in my lungs, tucked safely away once he finds my mouth once more and grinds against me.

"Let me love you, Sunny," he whispers in my ear.

I know what he's asking me … what he wants without telling me. I open my mouth, but the words aren't there. They're caught in my throat in a nervous bubble. I answer by shifting against him, letting his cock slip against my warm center. Bean's strangled moan breaks over the sound of the waves, and over my heavy breaths. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and I whimper with the delicious pressure as he lines himself against me.

Bean hesitates. He pulls away and stares down at me with conflicting eyes, silently asking me if I'm sure. I answer him with a kiss; a soft, salty, barely there kiss.

I want more than anything for him to love me, to let him.

With his hands on my hips he sinks against me. I thread my fingers through his hair. It's gritty with sand and salt, smelling of the sea that swirls around us. I moan as he stretches my body in the most wonderful ways. I reach between us, gasping as I realize he's barely inside me.

"You okay?"

Biting down on my bottom lip, I nod, and he smiles placing a salty kiss to my lips. Neither of us notice the shine of the spotlight until it's beaming brightly into our squinting eyes.

* * *

Hoodie-Hood here. This chapter was brought to you by farting dogs, and burnt, Amish friendship bread.

Thanks to Jonesn for her help finishing the chapter. If not it woulda went something like this:

**Copper**: Hands up! No sudden movements!

**Bella**: It was just the tip! *cries*

**Bean**: There's nothing sudden about my movements, copper. *grumbles*

LOL. We had fun writing this chapter, but now I can't see from the mascara in my eyes from tear-inducing laughter. Hope y'all enjoyed it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. But I now own a sweet, red and black flannel I found at the dollar store yesterday.**

* * *

**For _Fran_, the _gran_ who under_stands_ ****my love for _man_ly fleece _brands._**

* * *

**~*~ GriNd ~*~**

**ChaPter TweNty-fOuR**

**EPOV**

The light is as unexpected as it is blinding. I pull Sunny to stand behind me, lifting an arm, and blinking out salty splashes of sea spray, as I shield my eyes.

The water feels cool from where I was just inside of her, my Sunny, and I wish more than anything that I was still there. Every part of me wishes, especially when her arms wrap around my waist. I hold them in place.

"Yo, cut that shit out, would ya?" I ask, but not really asking 'cause this is my fucking beach, after all, and I'm beyond fucking pissed.

Pissed because Sunny was opening up to me - literally and figuratively - she was letting me in before this guy showed up and ruined it.

Who knows how far this has set us back? Who knows if she'll let me get that close again after this?

Who knows?

"Oh, shit! Mr. Masen?" The guy fumbles with the monstrosity of a flashlight, clicking off the stored sun beam. I roll my eyes, my vision now clouded with floating fiberoptics. They flicker in red and gold and green, lighting up the dark, but I still can't see. Opening wide then squeezing my lids shut, I shutter blink them out.

"What the fu-uhh … I thought you were out of town," he defends, and I roll my eyes again.

Next week.

I'm out of town next week.

"Yeah, that's next week," I tell him calmly, scratching a brow before reaching over my shoulder to smooth Sunny's hair, as she sighs and rests her head against it.

_I feel you, baby girl. I feel you._

"Ah," he growls, the darkened silhouette rubbing its neck. "Sorry, man. I coulda swore you said this week."

I wave him off, but he doesn't take the hint. What? Does the dude _not _see that we're kinda fuckin' naked? I mean, if the amount of skin we are flashing isn't clue enough, our clothes are laying in a pile at his feet.

"You heard about all the break-ins lately though, right?" I nod though I doubt he can see it. "It's a shame, really. You can never be too careful, ya know. These kids, they aren't just stealing but destroying the property, too," he rambles, and rambles, his voice fading in and out with the back and forth of the tide. "And you know I'd just never forgive myself if something were to happen to your place, especially on my watch."

My annoyance lightens just a bit before Sunny shivers. I dip us both down further into the water, trying to rub out the goosebumps popping up from her cool flesh. I want more than anything to get out of this mess and get my girl warm, preferably in my bed. Though that's doubtful. I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed, at least for tonight.

Damnit.

"No worries, Carlisle," I wave him off again. "Just get out of here, would ya?" I grumble, spelling it out, as Sunny goes rigid against my back.

"Carlisle?" she mutters, her voice barely audible above the crashing waves. I crane my neck to look at her, those big, brown eyes wide and worry filled. "As in Carlisle Cullen?"

**~*gRinD*~**

The man in question finally shuts up long enough to leave and I give Sunny a piggyback ride to shore, helping her to get dressed the same way I helped her disrobe. Once we're both descent I take her hand to pull her along, only dropping it long enough to rest an arm over her shoulders.

Sunny shakes under me, her teeth chattering over the tinkling of seashell windchimes. Her skin is ice cold by the time we make it inside, those perpetually pink lips of hers a light shade of blue. I kiss them then grab the same throw I offered the first night I met her, placing it over her shoulders before feeding the dying flame in the fireplace. She yelps as I pull her onto my lap when I sit down on the couch.

"So Carlisle," I start. "You know him, yeah?"

My stomach flutters when she leans back, turning slightly to nuzzle her cold lips into my neck. I shiver, holding her all that much tighter.

"I don't so much know him as heard of him." She shrugs, sounding cryptic and I feel uneasy, wondering what she means until she finally tells me.

"My dad mainly referred to him as 'that punk,'" she air quotes, rewrapping the blanket around her arms when it hits me. Carlisle's "the piece of shit that knocked up his daughter."

"Oh ..."

"Yeah."

We're silent for a beat after that, the only sound a crackle and pop, a sizzle coming from the flames in the fireplace.

I can't help but wonder if I'll ever get to meet her father and the rest of her family. I'm hopeful, but also hesitant, afraid I'll be expected to pay every single one of them for another man's mistakes. However, it's not enough to scare me away. Not by a long shot. No. Not when Sunny fits so perfectly, feels so warm, and looks so beautiful.

So beautiful.

I'm surprisingly smooth when a pull my feet up on the couch, swiveling us both to lay side by side along the length of the cushions. Sunny sucks in a sharp breath as I do so, and I smile, burying my nose into her sea-soaked hair.

She smells like salt, strawberries and sandlewood. Crisp and clean. A scent so pleasing to my senses that it physically aches to blow it out. I just want to breathe her in.

"So, next week ..." she pauses and I hum, suddenly sleepy, drunk off the pungent prettiness of her dampened musk.

"What about it?" I ask, pulling her impossibly closer. Never close enough.

"You're going out of town?" Her voice sounds small and unsure, and I'm suddenly awake, wondering if it's too soon to ask her to come along. But fuck it. I do anyway.

"Yeah, for a couple days in New York. Why?" I tease, cuddling up to kiss the shell of her ear. "You wanna come with?"

Sunny goes stiff, but I keep going, my lips trailing down the length of her neck. I swear she purrs like a cat.

"I've got a few meetings, but we could stay an extra day or two, see the sites, explore the city."

I say the city, but I'm really thinking body. I want to explore hers - here, there - doesn't matter to me.

I get the feeling it matters to Sunny, however, when she stutters, claiming that she wouldn't want to be a bother, then finally giving the excuse of not having any coverage at the shop. Nothing I say can appease, not even the offer to stick an intern behind the counter.

I'm disappointed for sure, promising to give more of a notice next time so she can't try and wiggle her way out of it, kind of like she is trying to wiggle out of my arms now.

My heart twinges; my stomach knotting with the thought of her leaving, causing my arms to hold on that much tighter.

"No more running," I remind her. "You promised."

Sunny nods, then immediately relaxes, and I loosen my hold when she cuddles closer on her own.

I watch while she twists the fringe of the throw between her fingers, staring into the fire. I thread my fingers through her hair, lost in the softness of the strands, and the way it glows against the flickering flames of the fire.

"Angie _is _always asking for overtime," she quietly admits, her words sending my heart in a tailspin. "And it's been a while since I've had a vacation."

"Yeah?" I ask, and Sunny nods, turning to face me.

There's a hint of a smile on her face, but it's quickly hidden away. She buries it against me, snuggling closer to my side causing my own smile to surface, as she murmurs her next few words.

"I'd love to go to New York with you, Bean."

* * *

Big, wet kiss of a thanks to Hoodie for helping and putting up with me. I drive her crazy as much as I love her and that's a lot.

Reviews get you a big "O" in the Big Apple.


	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. We just own post-holiday food guilt and tight leggings._

_Very tight leggings._

* * *

_For Franny, who owns a lot of leftover feast of the seven fishes dishes. Hehe. Fishes dishes. *giggles from the wine*_

* * *

**~*~ grinD ~*~**

**chapteR twentY-fivE**

**BPOV**

My closet is a mess, a catastrophe of tank tops and short-shorts, most of which are piled in the bottom of the small, enclosed space. My tiny wardrobe consists of clothes that are too short, too revealing for a woman in her mid-twenties, but it is California.

And man, is it hot.

I'm blaming the heat for the beads of moisture accumulating on my neck, the back of my knees, and under my arms, but it's not the overwhelming intensity of the summer sun that's causing me to sweat. It's the fact that I'm digging through my closet, grabbing and then re-hanging clothes as I debate on what to pack for New York.

_New York._

It might as well be a different country that I'm traveling to. Other than the few years I lived in Washington, I've never been anywhere outside of California. And I've never traveled with a boyfriend.

Boyfriend …

_Is that what Bean and I are? Boyfriend and girlfriend?_

It seems like such juvenile words, but the thought brings a smile to my face, a smile so broad, so bright that my cheeks hurt from the intensity of it. I toss a few more clothes into a suitcase and turn to my dresser, a new sort of anxiety creeping its way into my brain.

_Holy shit, what kind of underwear do I pack? Boy shorts? Thongs? Do I go commando? Should I invest in lingerie? I've never cared about this sort of thing before, but things are different now._

_I'm_ different now, and it's because of_ him_. It's because of Bean.

A not-so-subtle cough near the doorway of my bedroom pulls me from my thoughts. I meet the nervous stare of my father who's leaning against the door frame wearing his cargo shorts, flip flops, and a horrible, Hawaiian-print shirt. The thick 'stache he dons twitches as he gazes from the open suitcases situated on my bed to the barely-there thongs I hold in my right hand. I quickly stuff the porn-panties back in the drawer where I found them and nervously run my fingers through my hair.

"Stalking is illegal in all fifty states."

Dad's 'stache twitches beneath his smile. "Bells, this is my house. I doubt this constitutes stalking."

"Yeah, but you're being a total creeper, standing there watching me and whatnot. What's up, Dad?"

"I can't check in on my baby girl without getting the third degree?"

I raise a doubtful eyebrow, then sit on the edge of the bed. I pat the empty space beside me, and my father joins me on the paisley comforter. Neither one of us are big talkers, so I'm comfortable with the silence between us as he quietly sits by my side and gathers his thoughts.

"I haven't done right by you girls." He waves a dismissive hand as I open my mouth to argue. "No, let me get this out. I've never been the one to go to with relationship advice. Renee did a number on me when she left all those years ago. Made me closed-off, but that's no excuse for the mistakes I've made. What happened with Esme, hell, I blame myself for her falling for that Carlisle character."

I work my bottom lip between my teeth at the thought of Carlisle, the teenage skater-slacker turned security guard. Dad's face had grown so red when I mentioned 'bumping into him on the beach' that I thought he was going to have a heart attack.

I conveniently left out the part of the story where I was buck-naked.

"Dad, you did the best you could."

"No, Bells. No, I didn't. I couldn't give you or Esme relationship advice without thinking about Renee. I couldn't … I didn't explain the birds and the bees to the two of you, and I still can't talk about … sex in front of you girls. I guess I can't completely blame that hooligan for getting Esme knocked up."

Dad grumbles the last sentence below his breath. Guilt consumes his face, and I find myself winding my fingers reassuringly through his. The contrite expression is instantly replaced with a sense of bashfulness.

"You didn't come in here to talk about safe sex, did you Dad?" I ask in a teasing tone.

"No," he replies, his slightly, bristled cheeks burning a deep shade of ruby. "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry for always being so … bitter when it came to love. I also came to tell you that I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me?" I parrot, stunned as he drops his shy eyes. "Proud of me for what?"

Dad squeezes my hand. "For opening your heart to someone. For tearing down those walls that your mother and I helped build around that big heart of yours."

My father's voice is so soft, so quiet, that I have to strain to hear it. Tears well in my eyes, remembering all the sad, knowing glances he gave me over the years as he watched me avoid each and every possibility of love. Dad's eyes go wide as I toss my arms around his neck, then pull him in for a suffocating hug.

"I didn't tear down those walls, Daddy. _He_ did. Bean did."

"Must be a hell of a guy to win my baby girl's heart," he mumbles. "When am I gonna meet him?"

I release the tight hold I have on my father, and smile as he wipes away my tears.

"How about now?"

~grinD~

"What is he doing?" Esme whispers.

The two of us hide behind the curtains in the living room staring into the dimming, evening light. Bean has been standing outside for the past ten minutes, unaware of our quiet giggles from behind the window. The skateboard he normally rides lays abandoned nearby. He's conversing with himself, gesturing with his hands, and tucking, then un-tucking the Henley he wears into the waistband of his jeans.

It feels good to laugh with my sister, and to act like a couple of pre-pubescent teens, especially in the wake of me seeing Carlisle for the first time since I was a child. Esme has been especially quiet since I voiced my revelation of seeing him, but today she's full of nothing but laughter. I have Bean to thank for that, for her care-free nature, as short lived as it may be.

And he doesn't even know it.

"I think Bean's nervous," I muse aloud, my grin growing wider with each of my sister's soft snickers.

My heart spins in my chest as Esme gently unlatches the window. I shoot her a pleading glance, but she ignores it as she pushes the glass up. It's stuck at first, unmoving until it gives a sticky, popping sound. The two of us freeze as Bean pauses from his one-sided debate. He glances around the lawn, finds nothing of interest, then begins pacing and talking once again.

"Mr. Swan, uh, Charlie." Bean clears his throat. "Damnit. Charlie or Mr. Swan? What the hell do I call him? Sir?."

"Oh, my God. He's so cute," Esme murmurs.

I poke Esme in her side, terrified that he's heard her whispered words, but he hasn't. Something he's thought of or said has made him pause from his back and forth pacing. He stands rigid beneath the dwindling sunlight, silhouetted against the stains of pink and purple cast in the distance. Bean turns to the house, then stares directly at the front door. Shoulders squared, he tilts his chin up, then juts his hand forward as though greeting an invisible stranger.

"Mr. Swan, my name is Bean, and … and … I'm in love with your daughter, Sir."

My sister's muffled giggles fade away, replaced with my hushed gasp. I feel her awed stare beside me, but I can't pay her any mind, not when Bean's walking to my front door prepared to meet my father, with his head held high and a confession of love still fresh upon his lips.

* * *

Hoodfabulous here. Jonesn and I hope y'all had a wonderful holiday! She's up next, and pretty pissed that I've written her into a corner again. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! *throws hands up evilly towards the sky*

Peace and love,

Hoodie


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. But this isn't Twilight, so we own this.**

* * *

**For Fran, who owns us.**

* * *

**~*~ GriNd ~*~**

**ChaPter TweNty-SiX**

**EPOV**

Working up the courage to finally knock on the front door, I wonder if a declaration of love is really the way to go.

I mean, it's true. I do love her.

Completely.

Honestly.

As sure as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West.

I love her.

But should her dad be the first to hear me say it?

The warm breeze picks up, the sweet smell of saltwater helping to settle my nerves. However, as soon as the door swings open they start right back up again, clawing viciously at the lining of my stomach.

What if he's an asshole?

What if he hates me and for no good reason?

What if Sunny cares too much what he thinks?

I'm pretty sure Stretch's irrational reaction to Jasper's girlfriend has put me on edge. There's no reason for him not to like the girl. She's sweet and supportive and gives Jasper more space than he'd like, and all because of his father.

So idiotic.

It amazes me how their opinions can hold so much power over your own.

Take my father, for example. If he would have come to me and said that skating was a waste of my time, I would have believed him. I would have quit and focused more on my studies, maybe had gotten an A instead of that just-as-good B, seeing as either one awarded me the same diploma.

I thank God every day that he didn't, that he was supportive, saw something in me that I hadn't seen myself.

"You must be Bean," the manly spitting image of Sunny assumes, his kind eyes briefly throwing me off my game. I hadn't been expecting a smile.

"Uh … yeah." I cough. "Yes, Sir."

I'm stuttering like a bumbling idiot, reaching out to shake the man's hand after I've coughed all over mine. Thankfully, he graciously ignores this and takes it anyway.

_Smooth, Masen. Real fucking smooth. _

"Actually, it's Edward, Sir. Edward Masen. My friends call me Bean, but you can call me Edward," I offer, thinking I'm being nothing but respectful and polite. My brows perk when I realize what it actually sounded like.

"I mean, not that we're not friends," I try and explain. "I just …" I internally facepalm when his mustache twitches in amusement, and he steps back to wave me further into the house.

"That's okay, Edward. You had it right the first time," he says, patting my shoulder as I pass by. "We're not friends."

His chuckle does little to relieve the tension. The hand now resting on my shoulder feels like a ten pound weight, and as soon as he drops it to turn away I stretch my neck.

_Holy shit._

"And you can keep calling me Sir," he says, leading me through the eat-in kitchen and into the living room. "I like the sound of that."

I see a flash of gingerbread skin and bare legs darting up the nearby stairs, giggles chasing two girls up the narrow steps. Charlie gestures to the couch, and we both plop down at the same time. I'm a little worried that the wicker frame isn't strong enough to hold the both of us when it whines under our combined weight, but it is. My fingers tap idly against the side of my knee while we sit in uncomfortable silence.

There's a hint of Sunny's berry scent floating in the air, dancing with the dust particles that fill the sun's bright beam. It filters through the large, open windows, shining brightly and bouncing brilliantly off of the white Spanish tiles. One glance and I can tell - this place isn't Sunny. She's smiling in all the family photos hanging on the walls. She looks happy. She grew up here. She lives and loves in this home, but it's not hers.

Not really.

My Sunny belongs in a den of deep hues and dark woods. A habitat that harbors a flattering likeness to her features. Her bare feet fit perfectly padding across my jet black jacobean floors.

"My daughter likes you," the man beside me muses in a low voice. Scratching a nonexistent itch on the back of my head, I smile down at a bouquet of fabricated flowers sewn into the throw rug.

"I like her, too," I needlessly tell him, holding back on proclaiming just how much.

_More than like her, actually._

_I love her._

The fact that she told him she likes me, or that he simply picked up on her feelings, stirs some strong ones of my own. My blood runs hot and cold, the swift change shocking my heart into a stand still. The creaking sound of someone creeping down the steps starts it back up again.

"Treat her right and maybe one day I'll like you, too," he adds, standing just as Sunny rounds the corner. Pushing myself up, I follow.

To be completely honest, it's more than I expected out of him. For a man with such rotten luck in love, I was prepared to get the third degree, and would have gladly suffered through it. As long as Sunny continues to smile at me that way, I'll gladly suffer through anything.

"You look beautiful," I tell her because she does, standing there smiling at me, toeing the tile and driving me crazy in that emerald green jumper. It's strapless and singing to me, her bare shoulders begging to be kissed by more than just the sun.

I'm not sure how long I stand there and stare before the clearing of a throat knocks me out of my stupor.

I'm torn between kissing her now and waiting until we're alone, but my lips easily decide for themselves when they connect with her reddened cheek.

"You ready?" I murmur against her, and she nods, going for her bag, but I'm quicker to snatch the straps, sliding her outstretched hand into mine.

While she says her goodbyes, my mind runs rampant with all the things I want to do with her, _to _her - most inappropriate for this time and place. I can't wait to get her to the city, see her eyes light up with all the sites she's always longed to see. I've seen them all before. A hundred times over. And even if I hadn't, the only thing my eyes will be on is her.

* * *

Challenge accepted and successfully completed. Then I realized that Hood had the girls eaves dropping from the living room and NOT the upstairs bedroom -_- So... she saved my dumb ass once again with one simple sentence. *sighs* I just love her. She makes me swoon almost as much as Bean does. *lazy smiles*

Anyway...

Reviews make Bean take Sunny on the most romantic, yet down to earth, bestest date of her whole entire life, then give it to her good on the floor of their hotel room.

What?

They were just too impatient to make it to the bed... where they do it again and again and again and... yeah, you get it.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight. If we did we would have Rob's lips warming us up.

_Baby, it's cold outside ..._

I do own some burst pipes and a head cold.

* * *

For Franny, who warms our hearts.

* * *

**~*~ grind ~*~**

**chapter twenty-seven**

**BPOV**

I'm flying high.

Literally and figuratively.

Bean's snug against me in first class, twirling a lock of my hair between his fingers with a sly little grin on his face. I feel transparent under his gaze. He can see right through me.

Maybe not. It's probably just the vodka I ordered, delivered by a friendly flight attendant with a luminous, white grin and a perfectly coiffed bob.

That or the Xanax my physician prescribed me once I explained how terrified I am of flying.

I snuck the bitter, white pill shortly after arriving to the airport. I'm not sure why I didn't want Bean knowing about my nervousness associated with flying, but I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I hate appearing weak in front of people. The constant running from all his advances was the ultimate sign of fragility.

The Xanax helps. It helped keep me from darting away in fear from the airport. It helped me board the plane. And now it's seeped further into my system, uprooting some confessions that aren't so hidden anymore.

"You're so amazing."

Bean smiles at my words, then kisses the corner of my mouth. I grin against his kiss, breathing in his chocolate-mint scented breath. It doesn't take Bean long to figure me out.

"You're high as a kite."

"Maybe ... but I always feel light and free whenever you're around."

My confessions tumble from my lips without my permission. They're sucked in by his quickening breath, then released with a soft snicker. Those words spin around the filtered air, and swirl around us. Bean finds me hilarious, using this opportunity to question me, seizing answers I'd normally keep bottled up inside.

"What's the first thing you wanna do when we get to New York, Sunny?"

The first thing I want to do? There's only one thing I want to do, more than anything. It's something I've fantasized, longed for, and craved since that night we were caught naked on the beach.

"You. I wanna do you, Bean."

Bean tugs my hair, whirling it around his finger. Seafoam-green eyes shine into mine, and Bean's a child who just learned to ride a bike without training wheels.

"Is that what you really want, Sunny? It's all I've thought about," he confesses, warming my body with his smoldering gaze. "That night on the beach ... how beautiful you were. How bad I wanted to be with you."

"There'll be no security guards holding you back once we get to the hotel."

"True," he murmurs, then shoots me an evil grin. "Does that mean we can't use handcuffs?"

~grind~

New York City is incredible.

There's endless amounts of restaurants, lights, and people. So many people. The city is alive with the thrum of soles pounding against the sidewalks, horns blaring at intersections, and the jingle of bicycle bells that pass us by. The hustle and bustle reminds me a little of LA, but only a little. The people here seem more purposeful in their steps as they crowd the busy sidewalks.

I take it all in beside Bean in the backseat of the SUV that picked us up from the airport. His hands have rarely left the bend of my neck, my hair, my waist, or any other innocent part of me since landing. The thrill of his fingers ghosting near my collarbone is a tease of what's to come once we reach the room. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited and nervous. This is no spur-of-the moment lovemaking. Our entire trip here was planned, miles and miles above the earth.

_"I doubt we'll even make it to the bed,"_ he once whispered.

_"Where will we do it? If not in the bed?"_ I'd asked, my whisper full of giggles followed by throaty gasps of excitement.

_"Against the wall, the window, the floor,"_ he'd responded, burying with words by capturing my waiting lips.

I'm drawn out of my naughty thoughts by the deep tenor of the driver's rumbling voice.

"You here on vacation, Mr. Masen?" he asks, eyeing me in the rear-view mirror. "It's been a while. The city's missed you."

"I"m here for business, but I'm hoping to wrap things up pretty quickly so I can spend some time with Sunny while we're here."

"I'm Sunny."

I needlessly introduce myself, returning the smile he shoots me from the reflection in the mirror. Em must routinely drive Bean around while he's in New York. They've had a carefree demeanor during our trip, laughing as they swap old stories of the times they'd partied together in the past. I get the feeling from Bean's deep-dimpled, curly-haired friend, that Bean's been out of the party scene for quite a while.

"I'm Emmett. Long-time driver for Edward 'Bean' Masen, and we've been friends even longer than that."

"Edward, huh?" I poke Bean in his side. "The cat's out of the bag."

Edward's grin grows sheepish. I already knew his name from his rambling stutters outside of my home back in Cali, but he doesn't know that. The arm that's been casually relaxed behind my headrest is suddenly gone from my shoulders as he shifts his body to face me. It's back in a flash, that hand of his, winding its way into my dark hair.

"It's a silly name, huh?"

"What? Bean?"

"No, Edward." He laughs at my easy mistake, then shakes his head. I love his laughter, the carefree sound of it. He throws his head back a little when he laughs, and then he dips it, almost shyly, as though he's embarrassed by the sound of his own unbridled happiness. He may be Edward or Mr. Masen to everyone else, but to me … he's Bean.

"Edward … no, Edward isn't silly," I tell him, my voice sounding thoughtful and reassuring. "That's a strong, noble name with so many wonderful men associated with it."

_But, I still like Bean better._

"Strong and noble, huh? Like who?" he asks, his voice brimming with amusement and curiosity.

"Uh, well. Edward Rochester for starters."

"Edward Scissorhands," he pipes up, poking me in my ribs and wiggling his fingers around.

Being extremely ticklish I crumble beside him, falling into a fit of giggles. The laughter fizzles away once he stops and draws me near. Warm lips greet mine and I'm no longer crumbling. I'm melting into him, parting my lips for his awaiting tongue. My belly flutters once he's slipped it inside, and he tastes so good. I moan with each stroke of his tongue, my garbled voice quietly admitting how good a kisser he is once he's broken away from me. Kisses flutter up my neck, pausing below my ear. My skin bursts into flames as he whispers in my ear.

"I'm gonna kiss you everywhere. You wanna know when?"

"When?" I question, my cheeks burning as I remember Em sitting in the front seat. He's pretending to busy himself by parking the vehicle. This is when I realize we've arrived at the hotel. My palms suddenly go sweaty with nervousness and anticipation. The Xanax is long-gone, but I realize I don't need anything to calm me down. I don't wanna calm down.

I'm hungry.

Ravenous.

"Very soon, Sunny. Very soon."

* * *

Bella's hungry! Someone pass her the bean dip. :D

If Bella gets her period or someone dies and cockblocks the inevitable, I may possibly hunt Jonesn down and do some very illegal things to her. And I hope y'all have my back on this one.

*begins to light the torches and passes them around*

Hoodie out. Jonen's up next!


End file.
